Live to Rise
by Spacebabie
Summary: New leads and a side mission bring Dean and Co back to London to unravel Moriarty's network and restore the reputation to Sherlock. Meanwhile Sam and Sherlock help Kevin with the angel tablet and find a way to restore the angels and take down Metatron. Sequel to The Case of Identity Switch
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or their universes. Supernatural and all characters belong to Eric Kripke, Warner Bros and the CW. Sherlock belongs to Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

**Notes:** Obviously AU since the timeline will be a set over a year after Reichenbach instead of three years and of course things are going to be jossed when series three and season 9 airs.

**Setting: **Several months after Sacrifice and over a year since The Reichenbach Fall

**Live to Rise**

_Prologue_

* * *

_London England_

"Where is my aftershave?" John Watson shouted out loud even though he did not expect much of a response from his flat mate. He had a date that evening with the beautiful Mary Morstan, a young governess who had several clients and was paid quite well. He had met her a month and a half ago and this was their fifth date.

He remembered when he had met her and their first meeting was full of bereavement. He went to visit Sherlock's grave. John had promised himself and his therapist that he would cut down on the visits and he had cut it down to only once a week. Every time he visited the grave and stared at his reflection in the glossy tombstone he would update Sherlock with what was going on in his life and in the world and every time he would ask, more like plead for Sherlock to not be dead.

That day was different. After John had left Sherlock's grave he heard crying and saw a young woman kneeling next to a different tombstone. He first noticed how pale her skin was and how it was the same color as Sherlock's pallor. She was dressed in a gray skirt that came past her knees, pink sweater, short gray jacket, black flats and she was also wearing stockings. Her blond hair was pulled up into a bun and she was wearing mascara, waterproof mascara from the way she was crying.

"I'm sorry if I had startled you," John said to her. "I was visiting a friend." He glanced back over his head and at the direction of Sherlock's grave. "A very close friend."

"This was my grandmother," the woman said as she pointed at the gravestone in front of her. "She and I were very close, closer to me than my own parents."

They had exchanged a few more words when the deafening thunderclap sounded overhead and John had invited her to the nearest coffee shop to continue their conversation and wait out the storm. One hour later and they were Facebook friends, one day later they were texting and talking to each other, two days later and they made their first date.

"Your aftershave is in the medicine cabinet," the voice of John's flat mate shattered his memories. "Where it always is."

"Of course it is." John threw up his hands in defeat before racing to his bathroom. He dabbed on a bit of Bay Rum on before he checked his teeth and his hair. Nothing was out of place his teeth were clean. He checked his fingernails and they were whiter than his teeth.

"Is there significance to the fifth date that I am not aware of?" Barachiel asked. He was still in the kitchen and probably still contemplating the bowl of green jelly that he had made, even though he was the one who boiled the water and mixed in the powder and poured it in the bowl he would just stare at it once it had finished setting.

"Fifth is a good number," John said as he checked his watch. He still had more than an hour before he had to leave to pick up Mary. There was a time when the fifth date meant that he would have had a nice shag, but Mary was different and he wanted to take things slow with her. They had just reached the snogging point of their dates.

There was a time when the fifth date was out of the question. He was lucky if he even made it to the third date. This was when Sherlock was still alive and that man always found some way to sabotage his dates, even though he wasn't trying, at least John believed he wasn't trying to.

"Don't think about that," John told himself as he walked down the stairs. The last thing he wanted to think about were any negative memories of Sherlock and to only dwell on the good. He was relieved that the public had forgotten about him, of course a gigantic meteor shower that took place throughout the whole planet tends to push those thoughts out of the minds of people. Then came strange people saying they were angels and of course they were considered mad even though some of them were able to perform some great and unbelievable feats.

"When will you be home?" Barachiel asked. He was sitting at the now empty table in the kitchen with a small bowl containing the jelly in front of him and a spoon in his hand. His grayish green eyes fixated on the dessert. He was still wearing his suit. Blond hair was in a modest style and he was wearing a threadbare shirt, denim trousers and his favorite white fluffy bunny slippers.

"Not certain," John said as he stared at the tickets to the play. They might go out for drinks after. "You might be asleep when we return."

"I have to be at the library at nine," Barachiel said. It a strange idea of an angel working as a librarian, even a wingless angel with limited abilities such as Barachiel. The being was an archangel, but of lower rank. He had said he once proudly served the side of Michael before Michael was trapped in hell with Lucifer.

"Don't wait up for me," John said. He was not ready for another flat mate, but when Barachiel told him he was angel and able to generate lightening between his fingers. John was willing to let the being stay granted he got a job and Barachiel accepted a job at the library with the assistance of John creating an alias for him and typing up the resume.

"He had also enjoyed books," the angel spat out the word he as if it were milk that had gone sour. "He should of stayed down here with them. That bastard did this to all of us." John had asked him several times who this He was and was always answered with a glare.

John slipped the tickets back into the playbill for Frankenstein and walked into the living room to find the telly was left on. He had to remind the angel not to leave it on when he was not in the room.

"Barachiel," John said as he glanced over his shoulder. "You have to turn the telly off when you are not watching it."

"Sorry, John," Barachiel said and looked down at his bowl of jelly before he looked back up at him. The training of the angel, speaking with him and his mannerisms was similar to Dean and Castiel.

John would never forget the two brothers and their angel friend and how they had met in the first place when two enchanted objects had caused Dean Winchester to switch bodies with Sherlock. John had winced at the thought that poor Dean might have been the one who jumped off the top of St. Bars instead if they were unable to switch. Sherlock would still be alive but, no, John shook his head. He would not wish what had happened to Sherlock on anyone and Dean was someone he wouldn't even wish a paper cut on, far from it.

The brothers and their friends had even set up a website to prove that Sherlock wasn't a fake and that Moriarty was real and had set up Sherlock and was the one who forced Sherlock to jump off the building. John could not prove it but he knew that Sherlock did not jump on his own decision.

"Well I'm off," John shouted as he grabbed his apartment keys. He did not expect the angel to answer. "You can bring in your jelly in here and watch." He glanced at the screen briefly only to read a small news bit about Kitty Riley being sacked, before he left the apartment.

"Have a good time, John," Mrs. Hudson said as John walked past her.

"I certainly will," John answered once he stepped out he looked at the sky. The angels might have left but he knew God had to listen. "Please God, don't let him be dead and if he is please let him return to me soon.


	2. Chapter 1: An Unexpected Journey

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 1: An Unexpected Journey_

* * *

Dean had never thought he would tire of hotel and motel rooms considering how he spent nearly his entire life living in them. He admitted it was hard for him to fall asleep on the various motel mattresses after he had spent nights in real beds whether it was at Bobby's or with Lisa, or at Rufus's cabin and now that they were living in the Bat cave it was even harder to fall asleep in one, but when the job took them out of town they had no choice. Now that the job was done he and Sam can return home and he can enjoy a good night of rest.

It was a simple and straight forward job that took place in Iowa involving a ghoul. At first Dean decided to ignore it since the ghoul was only eating dead bodies. He and the others had agreed that if the monster did not attack people they would leave it alone, unlike their father. The only exception to that rule was the shifter who was a detective in Chicago who used his abilities to work undercover. He only killed two criminals and one was threating hostages and the other threatened his partner.

Dean was about to back out from the page on the local grave desecrations and half eaten bodies when he found out the ghoul had turned to eating the living and once a ghoul had sampled fresh meat and blood they would not go back to the original meal. They were able to track it down and kill it within one night and checked out of the motel the next morning.

"Are you sure this was a good idea?" Sam had asked from the passenger side. He had recovered from the trials better than ever.

Dean had worried about him for months as he grew weaker and weaker and when he had collapsed on the night the angels fell he was afraid that he would lose his brother. Sam was in a coma for a week and then he just woke up fresh as daisy. He was stronger than before, more agile and able to heal faster.

"I called ahead first," Dean said as he inhaled the luscious scent of tomato sauce, mozzarella, crust, pepperoni and garlic that had saturated the air. "I told Fergus to take a night off from the kitchen." While Dean had enjoyed the nice home cooked meals at the bunker he was craving pizza and they had stopped at a place that was fifteen miles away from home to pick up some pizzas, pasta dishes, breadsticks, wings and a salad for Sam.

That was another thing that Dean liked about home. They had someone to look after them in a way. He was their former enemy but once he was mostly cured Crowley, or Fergus now, wanted to make amends. The mostly human and former demon turned out to be one heck of a cook and he also cleaned the place, did their laundry and helped out with the research. Dean, Cas and Kevin were more reluctant at first, but Sam was willing to accept. After all every Bat Cave needed an Alfred.

"This wasn't really a big hunt," Sam said as Dean parked his car where he usually did at the bunker.

"So?" Dean asked.

"So why the celebration meal?"

"This is not a celebration," Dean explained as he shifted to park and turned off the engine. "This is me simply having a craving that I want to share." He ignored Sam's shrug and head shake as he grabbed half of the food.

As soon as they stepped inside they could hear the pleasant sound of a violin and cello duo. Dean knew he had to step carefully when they entered the library and den of the building so he would not interrupt the lesson. It was one of the rules of the bunker as it was posted near the entrance.

House Rules

1:Clean up your mess

2:Put everything back where you found it

3:Unless you doing inventory, re-cataloguing them or cleaning them the weapons stay off the tables.

4:Everyone must get at least five hours of sleep

5:Everyone must eat three meals a day

6:Everyone must shower regularly

7:Music sessions are not to be interrupted unless it is an emergency

8:Video game sessions are not to be interrupted unless it is an emergency

9:Stay out of the kitchen when Fergus is cooking unless you want to help.

10:No Smoking

11:All visitors will be doused with holy water.

The list was rewritten and revised several times over and there were a few times when someone would take a pencil to the list such as Sam writing in a rule for Dean not to sing ACDC's greatest hits at two in the morning and Dean added that there would be no violin playing at two in the morning. He also once wrote next to rule five that Coffee and Salad was not a meal. They all agreed that those eleven were perfect as they were.

Dean had sought out the others as he and Sam slowly walked around. He caught a glimpse of two musically talented geniuses as he walked in and found Cas and Fergus sitting on the couch and watching them play. Dean was pleased that he was able to find some decent furniture and a nice flatscreen and Charlie helped hook them up with a dish and Internet.

It did not take them long to procure the necessary funds to purchase both instruments. They spent more time trying to find the instruments that Kevin and Sherlock liked. The others didn't just feel right to them and Sherlock was especially picky. It had to be the right color, right make and style and the bow had to be a certain length and balance.

Sherlock did want to buy a second violin for Dean so he could practice. Dean had tried and tried to get Sherlock to drop the subject, but Sherlock insisted on giving him lessons and Dean only agreed to learn just to get Sherlock to drop it and even downloaded a violin app on his phone that he could practice on.

He did not make a sound as he crept past them and placed the food on the table, but as soon as Sam had set the containers of pasta and salad the cello had stopped. They both turned to see if they were at fault only to see Kevin smiling at them.

"I knew I smelled pizza," the kid said. "Fergus said you were bringing home something."

"I'm starving," Castiel said as he stood up. The former angel was no longer wearing his old suit and trench coat. He only wore it when he was on cases. When he was at the bunker he preferred jeans and t-shirts.

"Pizza," Sherlock said in a questioning tone as he raised an eyebrow. The detective turned hunter preferred Fergus's cooking and did not really care for fast food, only eating it because he had to on hunts. He also was not big on diner foods and preferred restaurants, although he had taken a liking to Biggersons.

"I got you that chicken and penne you like," Dean answered as he held up one of the pasta dishes. "We also got some breadsticks and chicken wings and I'm sure even Sam would share his salad."

"Of course I'll share," Sam said and gave Dean a curious look.

"Never shared your salad with me," Dean said as he handed his long dark blue Belstaff coat to Fergus. Ever since he switched back to his own body and returned to the states he wanted a coat like Sherlock's and he found one that he liked.

"That's because you never asked," Sam stated.

"Guys can we just eat?" Kevin asked. He had grabbed some plates for everyone and set them down.

"Don't make me have to separate you two," Cas added as he set down a large stack of napkins.

"I like that," Dean said as he held up a finger. "You actually were witty and funny. You are getting better at that."

"Better at being human," Cas said in a low tone and Dean wished he could have taken what he said back. "I'll get the refreshments."

"I'll give you a hand, mate," Fergus said as he followed after the former angel.

"Damn it," Dean said as he stared down at the food. "Go ahead and call me a moron because I am one."

"Not this time," Sherlock said. "I have been living here several months but it is obvious you have been encouraging him to loosen up to develop a sense of humor for years now."

"It's just me putting my foot in my mouth."

"It was bad timing," Sherlock said. "That is all."

"He's right," Sam said as he sat down at the table. "We should change the subject."

"I have almost translated the first task," Kevin said. For the past few months Kevin had been studying the Angel Tablet, trying to find a way to restore Cas's grace. He had come across a way to restore the burned off wings of the angels, a series of three tasks.

"That's good," Dean said as he brought a slice to his mouth.

"And I finished figuring out what the second task is," Kevin's response made Dean pause with his teeth centimeters away from closing down on the pizza.

"Why the second and not the first?" Dean asked before he finally chomped down.

"It was easier." Kevin shrugged. "According to the Tablet an Angel must become intimate with a human."

"Create a new Nephilim?" Sam asked.

"No it just said they had to-"He brought his index and thumb together in another circle and stuck his other finger through it. "And maybe we should change the subject again."

"Okay," Dean said as he selected some breadsticks and wings. "Gingerlocks is going to need to touch up those licorice roots."

"So soon," Sherlock said as his hand flew to his head full of Auburn curls. He had been dying his hair that color since Moriarty gave him the biggest screw over of his life. He had also been slicking it back when they go on cases with a good amount of hair gel, but now they were loose. He only dyes his facial hair when he is on a case.

"Your hair kind of grows fast," Kevin said. He had already had half eaten a slice. He wasn't kidding about being hungry.

"What grows fast?" Cas asked as he and Crowley returned with the drinks. There was beer for Dean and Sam, soda for Cas and Kevin and wine for Sherlock and Fergus.

"My hair," Sherlock said in an annoyed tone. "I'm going to have to dye it again."

"I can go to the shop for you," Fergus volunteered. "We are low on milk and the only cereal we have is that Wheaties and only moose boy likes that." Even when he was mostly human he still used the same old nicknames.

"I'm in the mood for Cookie Crisp," Dean said before he took a bite out of his slice.

"Make that two boxes," Kevin added and held up two fingers.

"I'll make a list," Fergus said as he selected his own food.

"After dinner," Sam told him. "Everybody eats to-"the bell for the main entrance rang. "Gether."

"I'll get it this time," Cas said as he headed back to the kitchen where they kept the holy water.

"Is anyone expecting anyone?" Fergus asked. Everyone shook their heads. "I wonder who that could be."

"We'll find out," Kevin said. "I have the TV set up to record Bones."

"Can't miss that," Dean said. "Especially Sherly's weekly boner." The coughing and food frozen halfway to their mouths was what he was looking for.

"I. Do. Not. Get. Aroused. For. That. Actress," Sherlock said in a low growl.

"No you get it for the character," Dean pointed out. "We have all seen it. That gentle passive look in your eyes, the almost sigh like way you breath, the way the corner of your mouth turns up into a pleased smile. That is a total crush face."

"Do not be ridiculous," Sherlock said. "Although I am pleased with the way you noticed those details."

"Dude you do have a crush face," Sam said and both Kevin and Fergus nodded.

"I don't blame you mate," Fergus said. "She is a lovely bird."

"Who is a lovely bird?" A familiar female voice asked.

Dean turned his head to see a slightly soaked young woman with long auburn hair and dressed in light blue jeans, an Adventure Time t-shirt and powder blue hoodie.

"Hey, Charlie," Sam was the first to greet her.

"Sup sausage fest," Charlie greeted back before turning to Cas. "If you are going to drench me could you at least have a towel on hand?"

"We should have towels," Kevin said. "At least one hanging near the entrance."

"And I don't think I need to greeting showers anymore," Charlie said as she turned around and hiked up her shirt and jacket. An anti-possession tattoo was marked on the small of her back. "I tramp stamped the demons away."

"Nobody douses Charlie anymore," Dean said.

"Are you hungry, love?" Fergus asked.

"Actually I kinda am," Charlie answered before her eyes widened. "Oooh pizza." She ran up to them and grabbed a slice before anyone told her to help yourself. "So Mr. Fergus who is the lovely bird?"

"First of all don't call me mister," Fergus said as he held up his finger. "And the bird is Emily Deschanel."

"She is pretty hot," Charlie sat down between Fergus and Sam. "I think her sister his hotter."

"John would have agreed with you," Sherlock said before he took another bite of his pasta.

"And you prefer the other," Dean said after he had swallowed a bite. "Or rather the character, but only because she reminds you, not of you, but your girlfriend back home."

"Molly Hooper is not my girlfriend," Sherlock said.

"Dude when I was in your body and I was around her my heart, or rather your heart was beating faster. You have some kind of feelings for her." He noticed the way Sherlock's cheeks were flushed and the death glare in his eyes. Dean decided to drop it. "So what brings you here, Charlie?"

"I came to tell you all a couple of things," Charlie said after she wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Guess who got her ass canned?"

"Don't you mean caned?" Cas asked as he sat back down.

"It's an expression," Kevin and Sam said at the same time.

"I would believe it would be the only person you deliberately tried to get fired," Sherlock said. He paused to take a sip from his glass of wine. "Kitty Riley."

"Not fired." Charlie held u her hands. "Just make it so people won't take what she reports seriously, not believable."

"When you are reporter you have to be believable," Sam pointed out.

"Okay so I fired her. I promised I make her like Rita Skeeter."

"That is not the sole purpose of your visit," Sherlock said. "You have some bigger and more important news to share."

"Yep of course you would know." She wiped her hands on her napkin and reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop. "The wifi still awesome down here?"

"Always thanks to you," Dean answered as she opened it up and turned it on. "Is this about our website?"

"No it's a different website," Charlie said as she typed on the keypad and turned it to face them.

Dean felt the pizza he had just eaten way like lead at the bottom of his stomach when he saw the logo for the Ghostfacers. Why the hell would Charlie want them to look at that and why the heck would she want to look at that?

"What is this?" Kevin asked.

"A joke," Sam answered. "A real bad joke."

"These are the group of amateur ghost hunting morons you have described," Sherlock said.

"Okay now check this out," Charlie said and clicked on an area on the website marked News. A new video screen appeared. She pressed play.

"And if you have just clicked the play you now know you have reached the latest news," Ed Zeddmore said.

"Once again we are going abroad," Harry Spangler said as he held up a notepad that read the Willis Estate. "We will be going back to England-"

"London," Ed interrupted. "London England."

"To London where we will explore the Willis Estate." Harry held up a picture that contained a large mansion and a grand garden. There were two other houses of moderate size and what looked like stables.

"Once owned by the esteemed Willis family for centuries it was turned into a museum and a park twenty five ago for the visiting public."

"But that is not why you are here," Harry said. "You are here for the ghosts and there are indeed ghosts."

"For several years there had been reported hauntings," Ed added. "But they are only deadly for the past 14 years and people only die once a year."

"September 30 is when it happens. Someone dies nearly every year for the past fourteen years." Harry pointed at himself. "This year we the Ghostfacers-"

"Ghostfacers," Ed nearly shouted out the name. "Will be there to get rid of the ghost and film it."

"Film it for you loyal viewers." Harry pointed at them. "This might get scary."

"Will be scary," Ed assured. "So grab a blanket to hide under or a stuffed animal."

"Or a pillow," Harry suggested. "Because this might be our scariest episode ever." The small video screen went dark with the option of replay appeared in the center.

"More like deadliest," Sam said and shook his head.

"Dear God," Sherlock said and rubbed his head. "How were the two of you able to even think while being in the same room with these idiots? Their very being is stifling my thought process."

"Trying to figure that one out ourselves," Dean said. "Is it just Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum or are they taking the whole team?"

"Whole team," Charlie said. "Even their two interns."

"They are going to get themselves killed," Sam said.

"Or at least one of them will die," Cas suggested.

"We have to go bail their asses out of the fire," Dean sighed. "Charlie, since you have the computer can you book us a couple of flights to London?"

"Okay, but aren't you afraid to fly?" Charlie asked as she turned the laptop around.

"I'll manage," Dean answered. He still had some of Dramamine left that John prescribed him when he flew from London to Kentucky. "Also we can work on some new leads that Molly e-mailed us. We have planned on going to London for a few months now."

"What about cases here?" Cas asked. "Do you want Sherlock and I too take care of those?"

"Crap." That was one little detail that Dean had forgotten. He wanted both the detective and the former angel to continue hunting, but they would usually team up with either him or Sam.

"What's wrong?" Kevin asked. "They can hunt."

"What Dean means is that even though we both know how to hunt we are still amateurs," Sherlock said.

"Then Dean stays and I'll go," Sam said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"First of all two of us are going," Dean said. "Second of all you are staying here."

"Dude you are the one who is afraid to fly," Sam said.

"You were the one who nearly died from the trials. We still don't know what side effects you have. There was that time you leapt five feet, you healed from burns twice as fast as me and there are times when your eyes glow, Sam. We have all seen it." He glanced around the room and waited for the others to nod in agreement.

"I haven't," Charlie said.

"Everyone but Charlie has."

"Dean I-"

"No, Sam," Dean said and shook his head. "There is another reason. Sherlock and I still have this dream connection going on. He can't fly back for obvious reasons. It's going to be me and Cas." He watched as Sam's lip quivered and waited for him to open his mouth. "No."

"But," Sam had started.

"I said no. There are times when you get weak and ill and I'm not going to allow you to suffer over there. I don't want you to suffer period, but I'm going to feel better if you are here."

"Maybe we can vote on it?" Kevin asked.

"Fine," Dean said. "All for me going." He raised his hand and was joined by Sherlock, Charlie and Kevin. " And for Sam?" He watched as Sam, Cas and Fergus raised their hands. "Sorry Sammy but four against three."

"Does her vote count?" Sam asked.

"Are you saying that only men can vote on these matters?" Charlie glared at him.

"She's been part of the team since she set up the website," Dean said. "Her vote matters."

"Sweet, does that mean that I can come?" Charlie asked.

"Wait, what?" Dean asked.

"I've always wanted to see London, and I can help with the whole network thing for Sherlock with his Lex Luthor and I already booked three flights."

"Fine." Dean threw up his hands. "You can come, but only if you promise not to stalk J.K. Rowling."

"I solemnly swear," Charlie said and held up her hand.

"I don't know about the rest of you but I'm still hungry," Dean said and took another bite from his pizza. He was not going to worry about the flight, but only focus on the double assignment that awaited him.


	3. Were Going On an Adventure Charlie

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 2: We're going on an adventure, Charlie_

* * *

"I guess I was wrong about planes," Dean said as he sat back in the middle of the hot tub along with three young and very attractive women who were only clad in G string bikinis. He looked around the rest of the cabin and it was filled with women in bikinis dancing while Warrant blared and disco lights washed over him. There were even stripper poles in the jet and several of the bikini clad women danced against them.

"Care for a fill up?" A bouncy blond woman strutted up to the tub while holding a large champagne bottle.

"Always," Dean said as he leaned back, closed his eyes and opened up his mouth. He was expecting wine to trickle down his throat. Instead he tasted nothing and felt his stomach and the rest of his body descend at rapid speed.

* * *

"We are crashing!" Dean shouted when he woke up with a thud. He bolted up from his chair and looked around. The people who sat in front of him turned around and stared at him in a quizzical manner. On his left Cas gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder while Charlie looked like she wanted to crawl deeper into her chair.

"We have just landed," Cas explained to him. "What you felt was the wheels touching ground."

"Oh," Dean said and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that guys. I just had a bad dream."

"Maybe we should have gone with Sam," Charlie said. She was chewing gum and Dean wondered if this was her second piece of she was still chewing the one she popped into her mouth before they took off.

Dean had taken the medicine as soon as he had sat down and buckled in. He was certain his anxiety levels would outweigh the strength of the medicine and both Cas and Charlie gave him their hands to hold and he nearly crushed their bones in a death grip until he fell asleep.

"Sam wouldn't have let you come," Dean said. He wasn't a hundred percent about that but it looked like she had bought it. "Not to mention that I can communicate with Robert Harvelle when we sleep."

"We can communicate through the phone," Charlie pointed out. "Unless you think someone might be spying on us. I wouldn't put it past this guy or his minions."

"I don't think we should talk about this here," Cas said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Wait until we are in private."

"He has a point," Dean said as it was time for their row to depart. "Were the pilots talking about metaphorical otters in the cabin, or did I just dream that part?"

"It was a dream," Charlie said and nodded.

"Let's get to our hotel."

* * *

The first thing Dean wanted to do as soon as they checked into their hotel room, actually rooms since Charlie got a two bed for Dean and Cas and a smaller single for herself, was to make a phone call to Garth. He needed to call up some local hunters and see if they can borrow some weapons off of them. As luck would have it Dean was only able to reach his answering machine.

"Hey Garth, this is Dean. I'm in London and I need the number of all the local hunters, call me back as soon as you can, or text." He hung up.

"I'm hungry," Cas said.

"We'll get some food," Dean told him. He had to think about their next move. They could grab some food and then they can check out the Willis Estate. "We are going to either be reporters for a magazine, or a newspaper, or a website. First food, then we will go to the Willis Estate, dig up some of the local lore."

"That sounds like a plan," Cas said. He had pulled out his own phone and pressed a few buttons. "Hello, Fergus? We are here. Tell the others we landed and are safe. Thank you."

"Thanks for doing that, Cas," Dean said. "Let's go get, Charlie." He opened the door to their room to find Charlie standing in front of their door with her arm held up and hand in a fist.

"I was about to knock," Charlie said. "I got my stuff put away, except for this." She pointed to her computer bag. "I figured we could be blog reporters."

"That's what I was thinking," Dean said as he nodded.

"I was even building a fake site while you were sleeping on the plane. Does that help?"

"Helps a lot," Dean told her and he was glad he asked her to come. "Food first."

"Oh yeah, food. I'm hungrier than a Sarlaac."

"Remember we might need to turn the geeker joy down from eleven to at least two," Dean told her while his own stomach's volume increased. "Let's go grab some local grub."

* * *

The structure of the mansion was beautiful and classic and Dean usually didn't give a crap about architecture and only gleaned enough knowledge to ask questions for cases. Even from the outside of the main mansion turned museum he could appreciate the beauty that went in to constructing the building and off course all the touching up and maintenance that it received throughout the years.

As he stepped inside he could see a small crowd of people standing in the lobby and in front of a desk. They were all holding brochures and it was just as Dean had figured it they did group tours.

"Are you here for the tour?" A young woman who had to at least still be in her late teens asked. She wore a red vest with a shiny brass nametag over her blouse.

"Hi," Charlie greeted even though they had agreed that Dean would do most of the talking. She hopefully wasn't flirting with her. "Were with Here and Back again. It's a travel news site kind of like a blog but a little more and we are hoping for a private tour, just for the three of us." She waved her hands as she talked before she pointed to the three of them.

"Oh you are like reporters?" The woman asked.

"Reporters?" A chipper man with short red hair stepped out from one of the rooms. He was also wearing the same vest and bag but his badge also had a manager title attached to it.

"We are like reporters," Cas answered. "I take pictures for the website." He held up the digital camera that they packed. "I understand there might be some places that you do not want to be photographed.

"There are some sensitive areas," Mr. Enthusiasm said. He had never lost his smile and Dean wondered what this guy was on. He looked like the type that would be wearing thirty four pieces of flair.

"We are a travel blog," Dean explained. "When people visit London they tend to go visit the most popular locations. We want to cover everything else to boost popularity." He hoped he had read this guy right.

"Boost our popularity?" Chipper man said. "We would love that. I will be more than happy to give the three of you a personal tour. Call me James."

"Got it, James," Dean held back the urge to call him Jiminy since he was practically jumping around like a cricket. "I'm Dean, this is Cas and Charlie. Charlie is the girl in case there was any confusion." He felt a size seven and a half woman's shoe step on his heel. He deserved that.

"Follow me," James said, never losing his attitude.

Dean feigned interest as he followed around James, pausing every now and then for their tour guide to explain a part of the mansion in full and rich detail. Cas took pictures of everything unless James had asked them not to. Dean took the most interest in the people who once lived in the building and wrote down every name that either James had mentioned or was in the placard underneath a portrait. One or more of these was the angry spirit.

"At that concludes the end of the mansion tour," James said about two and half hours later. "I could give you the outside tour. The smaller houses are gift shops, restaurant and a bed and breakfast."

"Can you tell us about the ghosts?" Cas asked. Leave it to him to go directly to the point.

"Pardon?" James blinked. He still kept that damn smile. Dean wondered how he was able to keep it like; surely it had to hurt by now.

"The reports of ghosts throughout the years," Cas explained. "There are ghosts here."

"He thinks there are ghosts here," Dean said and as usual he had to sweep in and do damage control. "There usually tend to be some ghost stories with classic buildings such as this and our readers and a whole lot of people eat that up."

"Yes," James said nervous tone. "Others have asked before." He shuffled a few steps and for once second he lost the smile. "Mr. Woods, the historian would know better." He licked his lips and held up a finger. "I will be back in a minute." He ran off.

"Did he get hit with the Joker's smile gas?" Charlie asked once their tour guide was out of ear shot.

"I also could have sworn it was stuck that way," Dean said. "Nobody should be that happy when they have a job like that."

"He wants to give good customer service," Cas said. "Some people do believe in service with a smile, but he was way too in to it. Even I can clearly see that."

Dean held up his hand when he heard a pair of shoes echoing on the hard glossy floor. He glanced over his shoulder to see James, and yep he still had that smile, and he was accompanied by an older man with gray hair and a bit of a gut.

"Hello," the older man greeted. "I'm Arthur Woods, the historian of the Willis Estate. How may I help you?"

"The three of us have gotten a lot of great notes and pictures," Dean said as he nodded towards Cas who tapped his camera. "James here said you might be able to tell us all about the rumors of ghosts floating around here."

"We understand if you don't want to talk about it," Charlie said as she held up her hands. "Cause if you think it might attract the wrong kind of visitors."

"We do like all kinds of visitors," James blurted out and winced when Mr. Woods looked at him as if he had stepped out of place.

"He is correct that we do," Mr. Woods said and chuckled and yes some have asked about the possibility of ghosts and many have claimed to see them, although I haven't witnessed it myself." His eyebrows turned up pensively for a minute. "You are actually the second group of American blog reporters to ask about ghosts."

"We have rivals," Cas gasped. Dean tried not to roll his eyes at the blatant bad acting.

"I am not sure if you would call yourself rivals of that lot," Woods answered and chuckled again. "This group said they were ghost investigators and James mentioned you were a travel website."

"That we are," Dean said.

"If that's the case then I will give you a list of ghosts that people have seen," Mr. Woods said. "If you don't mind following me." He turned to James. "You can go back to the front and wait for another tour group."

"Yes sir," James said and when he turned to walk away the smile on his face slowly faded.

"Now if you want to start with the first ghost it would be Lady Lenore," Mr. Woods said as he paused by one of the portraits they had paused by before. "Believed to have died by poisoning in 1879 and she is the one seen most often."

They followed behind the older man as he continued with the ghostly tour. There was Lydia a servant who fell down the stairs in 1901, Jeremy who died from participating in a duel in 1768, Jonathon who had lived to the age of 81 and drowned in the middle of his bath in 1842, Alice who died of consumption at the age of 17 in 1895, Harold who was murdered by his cousin albert before leaving for the war in 1915, Christopher who had his throat slashed in 1931, Martha who hung herself after having her groom leave her at the alter in 1923, Thomas who drunk himself to an early grave in 1950 and Deidra who was stabbed in the back two years before the family sold the estate to the government.

"That's quite a list," Dean said as he added Lydia the maid to the list and put a check next to her name as well as add checks to the list of people on his notepad that were seen as ghosts.

"Oh yes there was another one seen in the courtyard and the stables," Mr. Woods said when their tour had ended. "David the stable boy. He was accidentally trampled to death by one of the horses back in 1908. The poor boy was only fourteen."

"I think we got it all," Charlie said as she put her microphone and tape recorder away. "We will be updating the website soon."

"As soon as we got all written up, pictures posted and our editor give it a look over," Dean added. "Might take a few days or a week."

"Tale plenty of time," Mr. Wood said. "And thank you for wanting to feature the Willis Estate on your website."

* * *

"Still have a lot of work ahead of us," Dean said as they sat down on one of the benches that faced the large garden. "Let's see we have ten ghosts, although I doubt consumption girl is on our Hunter's most wanted list."

"There are the stable boy and maid," Charlie said as she looked over the list. "And the guy who drowned and bride who hung herself, although maybe she wants vengeance and is killing jerky boyfriends who up and leave their girlfriends…or boyfriends."

"Crossing off the girl who died from TB and Leaving Las Vegas, and circling those who were murdered," Dean said. "The ones who died from accident and the duelist are also potential suspects and also add the Virgin Suicide to the list."

"There is the possibility that they have been murdered," Castiel said as he caught on. "And their deaths made to look like accident or a suicide."

"Even if they are what they say they are they still could be our angry spirit," Dean said. "Charlie has a good theory about the bride and even ghosts who died from accident have been known to haunt and grow angry."

"And we know the Scooby gang has been here," Charlie added." Dumbasses are going to come back tonight, right?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," Dean answered. That meant they were going to have to come back tonight, save their asses and find out which ghost was offing people and salt and burn their remains.

"What's next?" Cas asked.

"Next we-" Dean was cut off by his phone ringing and it was from Garth. "Hold on. Hello?" He stood up to walk away and pulled the phone away from his mouth long enough to ask Charlie to look up possible places of where they might find the ghosts.

"Hey Dean," Garth greeted. "Long time no see."

"I still can't see you, but it is good to hear you."

"I just wanted to tell you that I got your message and there is a hunter that you can talk to and get what you need."

"Thanks Garth," Dean said. "What is his name?"

"I sent all the information to your e-mail."

"What?" Dean asked and covered his eyes with his hand. "Why did you call to tell me this?"

"I don't know how often you check your e-mail and you can access it on your new phone."

"Okay maybe you do have a point." Dean lowered his hand and nearly took a step back. A beautiful woman had approached him. She wore a dark red knee length dress and a jacket, her dark wavy hair had reached past her shoulders and she was smiling at Dean.

"Dean?" Garth asked.

"I will check the message," Dean said while he continued to stare at the mystery woman. "Thanks for your help." He hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Hi I can't help but see you looking at me."

"Yes I am," the woman said.

"Can I help you?"

"My employer wishes to speak with you," the woman said. "He is waiting for you in his car."

"No offense lady but I don't get into cars with strangers,"

"He is not a stranger. You have met before the last time you were here."

"Met last time," Dean said as he tried to remember all those who had spoken with during the last time he was in London. He doubted it was John or Greg, certainly none of the London police and he was certain it wasn't any of the doctors who had checked him out of the hospital. That only left one person. "Where is he?"

She did not order him to follow him but just simply walked away. Dean followed after her and when he passed by Charlie and CAS told them he would meet at the hotel. He was right in his theory when he saw the familiar swanky car.

"So does he just want to meet here-" Dean had started has he approached the car.

"Inside," the woman answered.

"I know you want to seem all secret service and hush hush but I have no idea if he is-"

"For Christ sakes just get in the car," Mycroft Holmes ordered.

"Don't order me around," Dean said as he stuck his head inside. "I'm not physically your little brother anymore."

"He wouldn't follow my orders either," Mycroft said. He held up what looked like a penlight and when he turned it on he focused the dark violet light on the ceiling of the car where Dean could see the glowing edges of a devil trap. Mycroft tugged at his collar and revealed he was also wearing an anti-possession charm.

"Took our advice," Dean said as he sat down next to him. "Smart move there Microsoft."

"It's Mycroft." He closed his eyes and sighed. "You are never going to stop with the ridiculous nicknames are you?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Nope. So what do you want to see me?"

"Tell me everything you know about my brother," Mycroft said as the car started.

* * *

**A/N:**

Yes Dean did dream he was on Tony Stark's party jet.


	4. Chapter 3: Reach Out and Touch Someone

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 3: Reach out and Touch Someone_

* * *

Dean wasn't sure who should be talking first as the car drove off. He had glanced over at Mycroft who looked like he was expecting him to say something, or ask a question or even provide some answers. He also looked over at the beautiful assistant who sat on Mycroft's other side. She did not look back up at him and was focused on her cell phone.

"So this is what you do?" Dean asked after a few minutes of silence. "This is how you talk to people by driving them around? Is this how you get dates?"

"I have only known you for a short while and I already have your brand of rapier wit memorized," Mycroft said. "I did not miss it."

"Join the club," Dean said as he looked over at Mycroft's employee. "Are you two dating?"

"That is none of your business," Mycroft answered. His lips pursed into a tighter frown than usual.

"How did you know I was in town?" Dean asked. He wanted to look at his phone but he wasn't sure if it wise in front of the government man. He had a feeling that Mycroft would want to know if he already hadn't and the guy knows a lot.

"I have my ways."

"Let me guess you had my name on certain radar that pings once I step on English soil?"

"As I said before I have my ways and they are also none of your business."

"Not going to answer any of my questions?" Dean asked as he raised his hands as well as his eyebrows.

"It depends on what you ask." He was sounding more and more smug and it was pissing Dean off to no end.

"Yeah your special government connections. They certainly serve you well with your high respectful life. It is kind of interesting how your ways didn't keep a complete nutjob behind bars, or keep him from ruining your brother's reputation or how about keeping him alive? Maybe if you cared more about family than you freaking reputation we woul-" He froze when the bottom half of an umbrella flew at lightning speed to his neck and pushed him back against the seat.

"Let me make one thing clear to you," Mycroft growled in a low tone. "Don't you ever, ever insist that I do not care about my brother or family. Don't you dare pin the blame of what happened to him on me. Do you understand?"

"Guh," Dean was only able to force out. The pressure of the umbrella made it even hard for him to swallow. When Mycroft's hold loosened he took deep breath. "Crystal clear."

"Trust me I have worked on restoring his reputation," Mycroft said as he lowered the umbrella. "You surely have not deluded yourselves into believing that you were the only ones who made progress."

"You haven't met Kevin Tran or Charlie Bradbury," Dean said as he rubbed his neck. "Which of Q's umbrellas did you bring this time, or is that also none of my business?"

"Ice pick at the tip," Mycroft said as he held up his disguised weapon and smiled at it. "Small and useless in a sword fight, but all it is needed is for one small stab."

"I know what I'm asking for Christmas, but there are more important matters at hand." He could have sworn Mycroft's perpetual frown was replaced with a small grin but only for a split second.

"Precisely. I do want to know how he has been keeping himself busy."

"Robert Harvelle is becoming a quite accomplished hunter," Dean said and made quotation marks with his fingers at Sherlock's alias. He had glanced over at Mycroft's beautiful assistant to see if she was listening and she was too busy typing texts. "Plays a mean violin, he's eating well and worked out with pushups and sit ups. He's got some good muscle tone on him. He can also beat my ass on Halo multi-player. I am looking out for him and making sure he doesn't get hurt."

"Thank you," Mycroft said and blinked. "He plays video games now?"

"Not my influence. You can blame the prophet of the lord for that one. How did you know he is with us?"

"I had a sneaking suspicion he was not dead," Mycroft said and smirked. "He would never kill himself unless forced and even then he would find some way out. I wasn't a hundred percent certain until I was alerted that someone used my name to get clearance at a government facility in Arkansas. Only one person I know can figure out my passwords and pin numbers."

"That Banshee case two months back," Dean said with a smile. "He didn't need to do that. I thought he was just trying to show off."

"He was letting me know he was alive. That was his way of telling me. I do appreciate your informing me and I can assure you that I am doing everything in my power to expose Moriarty." He frowned, probably knowing that Dean was in doubt. "I have several men and women incarcerated. They have been found lurking around Baker Street, St Bart's and Scotland Yard. Several were found in abandoned offices, hotel rooms, and flats with unregistered fire arms."

"Let me guess none of them confessed," Dean said.

"None of them have admitted or are willing to admit that they are working for Moriarty or even acknowledge that he is real. Those that have confessed only mentioned a higher up that paid them to simply keep an eye on an assigned target and shoot when they receive a certain signal."

"Minions working for minion," Dean said. "He was right about it being a complex web. Have any of those higher up the ladder minions talked?"

"Not a single word." Frustration weighed heavily one every word.

"There has got to be someone who is willing to squeal. I mean once they know their main employer isn't signing anymore paychecks on the account of being dead."

"They might feel their life is endangered," Mycroft explained. "Once questions have surfaced about the validity of the Richard Brook story I received an anonymous message from a friend of a friend of one of the jurors who found Moriarty not guilty. They somehow received threats to their lives and safety and to their family members as well."

"Sounds like a new guy pulling the strings for the old boss."

"That is what I believe. I also know that you have come across some new leads. That is why you are here."

"Second reason why we are here," Dean answered. "Tonight we gotta bail some morons out of the fire."

"Paranormal activity I take it?"

"More like a quartet than a pair."

"There is that wit again," Mycroft sighed. "I wish you good luck on your endeavor and perhaps we could work together afterwards."

"Let me think about it." Dean pursed his lips, looked up at the roof and tapped his fingers on his lap for a few seconds. "Nope."

"It is kind of funny how you speak so differently than him, yet you are very similar," Mycroft pointed out. "I believe we have reached your hotel. Your companions have made it back all right?"

"Yeah decided to save on a rental car and just use public transportation." He opened the door at the same time the car pulled to the stop. "One more thing. Before we left he wanted to ask about your diet."

Mycroft took a deep breath and sighed. "Tell him it is going well."

* * *

_Lebanon, Kansas_

Sherlock slowly plucked at the strings of his violin and half hummed along to the music. He wore not much aside from his silver and tan pajamas and long dark gray bathrobe that was supplied from the bunker. His wet hair was drying under the towel that was simply laid down on his head. He had finished rinsing out both the dye and the conditioner. He focused mostly on the music.

"Yes!" Kevin shouted. He was standing not far from the couch where Sherlock was lying on and in front of the TV where he was deeply engaged in a game of Wii Tennis. The younger man kept jumping back and forth and side to side while he swung the long and thin white remote.

Until he had lived in the bunker Sherlock had never played such games. True he had played video games back when he was a child and teenager but gave up on the hobby when he was at university. Now he had found a new love for it. He did enjoy the various possibilities the games had to offer depending on what decision you make and designing a character. He also liked the sports games where he actually did work up a sweat, but now he was not in the mood for such activities.

"Have you found a case?" Sherlock asked as he glanced over to the table where Sam was sitting in front of his laptop.

"Nothing yet," Sam answered without looking away from the screen. "Most cases of murder and accidental death are just that."

"Bored," Sherlock groaned. "I need a case, Sam."

"I'm trying," Sam said in an annoyed tone. "I think with all the angels walking around they are keeping the demons at bay."

Sherlock groaned again and plucked a few more notes. He watched the sweaty prophet for a few more seconds before he sniffed. Fergus was cooking stovies for lunch and he had prepared some apple tarts that were baking.

"I am going as fast as I can and reading fast as I can," Sam said.

"I would find a case twice as fast."

"This is my lap top, and I would appreciate it if you and Dean kept your hands off, or at least got one of your own."

"You are getting better and locking it," Sherlock said. "Your brother and I still can figure out your passwords. He and I made a bit of a game at it to see who is faster and figuring them out." He smirked.

"Maybe you should take a nap. You can do that dream talk with Dean. At least you won't annoy me as much."

"I can't its not even eight o clock over there and I'm not tired."

"Well I'm getting tired."

"I did it," Kevin shouted as he held up his arms in triumph. "I beat my old record." His grin faded quickly as he grabbed his head and groaned. He closed his eyes and collapsed on the ground.

"Kevin," Sherlock shouted as he set the violin down and raced to the side of the young prophet. "Kevin what is wrong?"

Kevin didn't say anything. He groaned and groaned and cried out in pain as he shook violently.

"Kevin, it's okay," Sam said as kneeled on the other side of Kevin. "We are here. Are you okay?"

"I don't think we should crowd him over like this," Sherlock said as he stepped back. "If he is having a seizure then we shouldn't be this close to him." He wished John was there more than ever.

"It's not a seizure," Sam said as he cradled Kevin's head in his lap. "He's having a vision, but I don't understand how."

"He's a prophet," Fergus said. He was kneeling down next to them with a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of painkillers in another. "Having visions comes with the job description. Don't all prophets get visions?"

"Kevin is the second one we have come across," Sam said as Kevin's eyelids fluttered open. "Was it a vision?"

"Yeah," Kevin groaned. He slowly sat up.

"Sam, you said you are confused about his vision," Sherlock stated.

"Visions come from heaven," Sam explained. "The only angel in heaven right now is Metatron and I hope he isn't trying to tell us something."

"If it is Metatron he most likely would just be trying to tell us to bugger off," Fergus said as he handed the glass of water to Kevin. "Was it him?"

"Not him," Kevin said and shook his head. "There were several people."

"Take it slow," Sam said as he opened the bottle of pills. "Were they angels?"

"Note sure," Kevin said before he swallowed down the pills with a large sip of water. "There was this one guy. He was kind of old and gruff. He had a beard and this dirty beat up trucker hat on."

"Bobby," Fergus and Sam said at the same time.

"There was another guy who was younger and he was wearing this t-shirt and a vest made from a shirt with cut off sleeves and his hair was in this mullet."

"That was Ash," Sam said. "Kevin, I think you saw some friends of ours who are in Heaven."

"There were also two women. They both were pretty hot but one was older than the other and she looked tough and the younger was blond and also pretty tough."

"Ellen and Jo," Sam said and smiled. "Ash probably found the others. Did they say anything to you?"

"Just call us," Kevin said and took another drink from his glass.

"They were able to communicate with you," Sherlock said. He had heard of the names before. Bobby Singer and the Harvelles was where he got his alias from. He understood how much the people meant to the Winchester brothers and was honored with the name.

"Can they do that?" Sam asked. "Can human souls just reach out and touch a prophet?"

"Don't ask me, mate," Fergus said and shook his head. "I never been to Heaven and before I took over downstairs I was a salesman. I was too busy working the roads to come across a prophet."

"Sam, call your brother," Sherlock ordered as he pulled out his own mobile. "I'm calling Castiel."

"But what about Kevin?"

"I'm fine guys," Kevin said. "Really I just have a small headache now. I think the painkillers might not have been necessary."

Sherlock didn't wait for Sam to protest or even do what he is told. He had his mobile in his hand and he dialed Castiel's number. He turned to stare at Sam, hoping the younger man would actually listen.

"Hello?" Castiel's voice was heard on the other end.

"Hello Cas, it's me Robert," Sherlock said as he disguised his voice and changed his accent. "Kevin had a vision."

"How is that possible?" Castiel asked after several minutes. "Without the angels at Heaven's disposal messages cannot reach an active prophet."

"He saw the spirits of friends you knew," Sherlock explained. "Bobby Singer, Ellen and Jo Harvelle and Ash." The angel was silent on his end once again. "Castiel?"

"There are two possibilities," Castiel said. "The first is that if a group of human souls work together they might be able to reach someone on Earth. Kevin would be the most easiest to reach. I have been told that Ash is a unique individual amongst the souls in Heaven."

"And the second possibility?"

"The message came from God himself and I have a feeling it isn't from him. What was the message?"

"Call us."

"I can hear Dean talking to Sam," Cas said and Sherlock also heard a similar conversation from a few feet away. "He thinks they mean to summon one of them."

"If we summon one of them they can have a better chance of speaking with us," Sherlock said as seconds after it had come to him. "Thank you for your time."

"This is good bye for now I guess?" Castiel asked.

"Bye for now," Sherlock told him and hung up. He turned back to Sam to see that he was also getting off the phone. "Castiel has confirmed that human spirits can reach a prophet if they gather into a large group and he told me if it is not them then it is God.

"That could be a possibility," Kevin said. He was wrapping up the chord for the remote.

"Dean wants us to try and summon one of them," Sam said.

"Like you summoned my son," Fergus said.

"Yeah but we need something of Bobby's," Sam reminded him. "That means we have to drive to Sioux Falls."

"You and I are going to have a road trip?" Sherlock said in a hopeful tone.

"You want to drive up there?" Sam asked.

"Of course I do. We could find a case on the way," Sherlock grinned. "Mr. Macleod pack our things. Sam, keep on looking." He picked up his violin and resumed plucking.


	5. Chapter 4: Who Ya Gonna Call?

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 4: Who ya gonna call?_

* * *

Dean did not have to worry about Sam and Sherlock. The last time they had called was to report the fact they were going to take on a possible vampire nest in Nebraska, a little stopover for the two on the way over to Sioux Falls. Dean also did not have to worry about Kevin. He had called the bunker once and both Kevin and Fergus assured him that Kevin was fine. The kid wanted to go back working on the tablet.

"I think I know what the first task is," Kevin said. "An angel has to help a human, but a specific human and I'm still trying to work on that and I think the third is an angel has to give a human something."

"You are getting closer," Dean had assured him. "Maybe that vision helped speed things up a bit. I'll call you guys after we saved Ed and Harry."

The only thing that was on Dean's mind was the job and that job came with two parts. The first was to keep the Ghostfacers alive and the second part was to ice the ghost or ghosts that were killing people at the estate. The first thing they needed was weapons.

"This is a Hunter's home?" Charlie asked as they walked up to the modest and average looking neighborhood.

"This is the address," Dean said as he looked at the house that was identical to the ones on each side of it. It had a paint job that was recently touched up. The lawn was green and freshly mowed and the small flowerbed had only bright colorful blossoms and not a single weed.

"I was expecting a ratty apartment or a rundown shack," Charlie said. "Not 4 Privet Drive."

"Hunters come in all kinds and so do their humble abodes," Dean explained as he walked up to the door. "Some do have cover jobs and not everyone drives around like we do." He raised the small knocker and rapped at the door.

The mail slot opened outward. "Who is it?"

"My name is Dean Winchester." He bent down at the waist. "We were told by Garth Fitzgerald that you are a hunter and can help us."

"I'm retired." The mail slot closed.

"Now what?" Charlie asked.

"We become persuasive," Cas told her and knocked. "You may be retired but we are not. We traveled a great distance to hunt down a ghost or a group of ghost and save from friends."

"I don't care," the man on the other side said.

"We need weapons," Dean said. He opened the mail slot and peered inside to find himself staring into a pair of brown and pissed off looking eyes. "We were told you can help us."

"I brought a bottle of scotch," Charlie said. She insisted they bring a gift and that had worked in the past.

"Keep it. I don't drink."

"Dean, that was our trump card," Charlie said in a worried tone.

"I got one last thing," Dean said and took a deep breath. "We know Bobby Singer." It was a long shot but it was the last one he had.

"Bobby Singer?" The man's tone lightened at the recognition. "Bobby Singer who runs a scrap yard in South Dakota?"

"That's the one. He's our adopted father."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" The sound of several locks was heard before the door opened. A slightly shorter man with thinning hair and a five o clock shadow answered. "I'm Harold Jones."

"Dean Winchester." Dean held out his hand and was met with holy water splashed on his face. "I should have known."

"We all have the tattoos," Castiel said and tugged down on his collar to reveal the top half of his tattoo. Dean pulled down his collar to reveal his.

"Mine is on my backside," Charlie said. "Well just a few inches above. I don't really want to show it outside, so I guess I just take the water to the face." She closed her eyes.

"Not necessary, kiddo," Dean said as he mopped some of the moisture from his face and placed it on her forehead. "You see no burning."

"Come on in," Harold said in a very inviting tone as he held open the door.

"Thanks," Dean said and walked in. The interior was like the exterior. There were framed paintings of flowers and cars and photographs of children at various ages. "Nice crib."

As soon as both Cas and Charlie had stepped inside Harold slammed the door shut, locked it and walked up to Dean. Without a warning he socked his fist into Dean's shoulder, right where Cas had left his mark years ago.

"What the hell?" Charlie asked as Dean groaned in pain and Cas grabbed the older hunter by the lapels of his jacket. "What was that for?"

"Tell that wanker, Bobby that was for that time in Bristol" Harold explained as he wrenched himself from Cas's grip.

"Bobby Singer is dead," Cas delivered in a cold and slow tone. "Show some damn respect."

"He didn't know," Dean said as he tried not to wince from the pain.

"Dead?" Harold blinked. "Why hadn't anybody bothered to tell me." He pointed at Dean. "Why haven't you told me?"

"I didn't know you were informed," Dean explained. "Nobody told me you didn't know."

"Why am I not surprised?" Harold asked as a phone rang. "Excuse me." He walked over to where his dining room was and grabbed a phone. On a second glance there were three others. "London MET this is Captain Canton. Yes she works for us. She is one of the best damn detectives we have. I don't care if her methods are different than yours she knows how to get the job done, now let her do her job." He hung up.

"I thought you were retired," Dean said.

"I don't hunt anymore," Harold said. "I just answer the phones." He held out his arms. "Quit not long after the second wife left me in a divorce. I've got four kids who I rarely see. I just answer the phones, dig up some information and provide other hunters with the materials that they need and you are not the first hunters from the states to visit."

"He is the English equivalent to Bobby," Cas said. Leave it to him to state the obvious.

"Don't compare me to him," Harold said before he turned to Dean. "No offense, mate."

"Whatever I don't have a lot of time for this," Dean said.

"Right the hunt," Harold said. "What are you hunting?"

"Ghosts at the Willis estate," Cas answered.

"The Willis Estate?" Harold narrowed his eyes at the former angel. "I know some blokes who took care of that."

"Well apparently the ghost they fried was not the only one," Charlie said. "Cause someone else died last year and we don't want anyone else to get busted by ghosts when we should be the ones who do the busting." She looked back at Dean with a smile.

"She's right," Dean said. "And more people are going to die tonight, including the possibility of a group of dumbasses who think they are ghost hunting experts."

"Well there is the possibility that we might have missed one," Harold said and frowned.

"It happens now and then."

"Why didn't you just call and ask us to take care of it?"

"Cause we know these morons," Cas said. "It's kind of personal."

"I see," Harold said with a half grin. "Well I do have some shotguns for you and some pistols with plenty of salt bullets. I also have some iron pipes and wrenches you can wield and do you have an EMF?"

"We brought a couple," Charlie said in a proud tone.

"Follow me to the shed," Harold instructed. "And if you need back up then call." He paused to smile. "Winchester that is a good English name. You might be American but I can tell you got British blood in you."

"Never really thought about that," Dean said and wondered why Sherlock never brought that up to him before, well it was unimportant now and what was important was the rescue mission.

* * *

There were able to easily break into the grounds of the estate after the sun went down, but only did so after they walked around, trying to see if they can find some sort of vehicle that might have been left by the Ghostfacers. After fifteen minutes of searching they decided not to waste any more time and go straight into searching for the actual Ghostfacers and to find the ghost

They had two of each, shotguns, hand guns, wrenches, pipes and EMFs and they divided the weapons with Dean getting the most. He had a wrench, shot gun, pistol and an EMF. They also had three shovels and a few extra containers of salt. They also had a gray green tarp they used to hide the shovels and salt and they covered the tarp with several fallen leaves.

"How come you have more than the rest of us?" Charlie asked as she slipped her gun into her holster.

"Cause you are going to be teamed up with Cas," Dean explained. "We are splitting up."

"And you are alone because?" Charlie asked.

"I have the most experience," Dean explained. "We are going to find the Ghostfacers and try to get them to leave, but since they are stubborn jackasses they won't leave or stay behind a salt ring and we are also going to find which ghost is causing trouble. Charlie you uploaded the pictures and have them on our phones right?"

"Right," Charlie said as she held up her phone. There was a portrait of one of the ghosts in them. "There are about three or four from the list not here because of no picture rule and because they are the two dead servants."

"If it's one of them we will figure it out," Dean said. "The plan is as follows. We see the ghost we pump it with salt. We look up the ghost on our phones and tell the other and then you two are going to go to the cemetery here, dig up the bones-"

"Why are we going to dig up the bones?" Charlie asked.

"Because I said so," Dean said. "Now you two go into left wing entrance and I'll take the back doors. If you see anyone who is alive then call me. Cas knows four of them and neither of us knows their internes, but hopefully they didn't make them go off alone."

"You need to check your ego captain testosterone," Charlie said.

"I'm in charge," Dean said. "Charlie you go with Cas."

"He's in charge," Cas said as he headed to the west wing side of the mansion.

"Of course you will agree with your boyfriend," Charlie said but never the less followed after him.

Dean chose to ignore the remark as he made his way to the back.

* * *

Dean checked the time on his phone for what felt like the fifth time and only six minutes had passes since he last checked. He had been walking around for a short while and he hadn't come across anything yet. He had crossed paths with Charlie and Cas once and they haven't found anything yet either. This was getting dull and frustrating and he wondered if one of them shouldn't be inspecting the grounds.

"Maybe there is nothing," Dean said as he placed his phone back and continued to walk. Maybe the Ghostfacers were not coming that night, maybe they got caught by security or the local authorities. That would make things a whole lot easier.

He turned the corner of the hallway on the third floor when the EMF's tone increased and it lit up. He had something at last. Dean honed on the signal as it grew while one hand reached for the shot gun.

A woman screamed from one of the rooms that were two doors down from where he was. Dean dropped the EMF and raced into the room. He saw the flickering form of a ghost in serving clothes as it approached a woman cowering in the corner. He raised his shotgun and fired.

The ghost dissipated.

"No," the woman gasped after a few seconds. "It can't be. You're dead." She wasn't pointing at where the ghost was. She was pointing at Dean.

"Huh?" Dean asked as his phone rang. He would deal with the woman later, after he answered his phone. "Good timing. I just blasted the serving lady. The ghost is her."

"We found two of them," Charlie said in triumph. "Not ghosts, just ghostbusting wannabes."

"Where are you located?" Dean asked.

"Ballroom on the first floor," Charlie answered.

"We'll meet you there," Dean answered before he turned the phone off and put it away. He turned back to the woman. "I'm not dead." He stepped into the moonlight.

"I'm sorry," the woman said as she also stepped into the light. She was not an intern. Dean had seen her before. She was one of the members of Scotland Yard.

"I know you," Dean said and pointed at her. He snapped his fingers as he tried to remember her name. "Donovan right?"

"That is correct," Donovan said as she resumed her composure. "You're with the FBI."

"Agent Keidas," Dean said. It was easy to remember his old alias this time because it was the only one he used in England. "Why did you think I was dead?"

"I thought you were him in the shadows. I thought you were Sherlock Holmes. You are close in height and you are wearing same Belstaff coats."

"You are still shaken up by what you saw," Dean told her. "I can understand. Ghosts can be pretty scary and some of them are deadly, but if you stay with me I can assure you I will get you out of here safely."

"Ghosts?" Donovan asked as if Dean had hit his head too hard. "Ghosts are not real."

"Then what did you think you saw?" He pointed to where the ghost was.

"A projection," Donovan said. She stood with her arms folded across her chest. "There are cameras installed somewhere and they made it look like there was a ghost."

"Why would you think that?"

"One because ghosts are not real. This is the only logical choice and two because we have been tipped off that a group of so called ghost chasers were breaking in tonight."

"Wait how did you know about the Ghostfacers?" The only people he told were Mycroft and Harold and he doubted that a retired hunter would tell the authorities when he knew actual hunters were going to be investigating the place.

"Lestrade told me," Donovan answered. "He had been removed from his position thanks to that fraud."

"He was fired?" Dean asked.

"He was put on suspension and receive and extensive background inspection before he was demoted to Detective Sergeant. I am Detective Inspector now."

"You still like working with him."

"I have respect for Lestrade. That is the one thing Holmes had done that upset more than anything. I just wished he listened to me. I wished all of them listened to me."

"Because you believe what you wanted to," Dean said and rolled his eyes. "You think he was a freak because he had a gift. He was a genius and you were jealous of it but the truth is that Moriarty gave him the biggest screw you over and you bought the lie because you wanted to believe it."

"And you want to believe he was real. He kidnapped two children, forced them to eat mercury laden sweets and then led us to believe he rescued them."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because the girl screamed when she saw him."

"He kinda does look like a vampire, but he didn't do it. Someone disguised himself to look like him. They made the children believe it was Sherlock when it was some goon who worked for Moriarty. It is a big criminal conspiracy and you bought into it because you are so damn jealous of his genius skills."

"Why the hell are you defending a man you barely know?"

"Because I wa—because we are friends and that is what friends do." God that was a stupid sounding but he couldn't tell the truth.

"You and John Watson refuse to believe the truth," Donovan. "I feel sorry for you both if you are so bent on de-"

The ghost of the maid flickered back. She stared sadly at them both even with her head bent in an odd angle.

"You have to leave," the ghost said. "It's dangerous here. Please get out."

"No you get out," Dean said and pointed his rifle at the maid.

"No wait you have to listen," The ghost said and before Dean could fire she flew into Donovan.

"Son of a bitch."

"Now you will listen," The ghost inside Donovan said as she pointed a gun at him.


	6. Chapter 5: The Haunted Mansion

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 5: The Haunted Mansion_

* * *

Do not hesitate was one of the earliest rules Dean had learned about hunting. His father had drilled it into him several times since he was eight. If you hesitate for any second then the monster will either run away or kill you, or anyone else you have brought along with you, but Dean had learned a few other things such as sometimes the monster is not the villain, the ghost they think might be the one killing people was actually keeping the killer at bay or warning the living. Sometimes the ghosts just have a message deliver.

Dean was certain the serving maid was the killer at first, but the way she spoke to him and the way she told him that he had to get out of the mansion made him think something else was going on. The maid seemed like the type of ghost that was just trying to warn him, that she had a message to deliver and he had to listen. That theory vanished the second she possessed Sally Donovan.

"I'm sorry," the ghost said as she possessed Donovan. "I knew you won't hurt her and I have to tell you something important."

"You didn't have to climb inside uninvited," Dean said as he lowered the gun. She was right in the fact that he wasn't going to shoot salt rock at her. He was going to call the others and tie her up with an iron chain to force the ghost out.

"I was afraid you would shoot again," the maid said. "I have to warn you to get out before he kills again."

"Which one is it? Professor Plum, Miss Scarlet, or Colonel Mustard?"

The maid just blinked before she shook her head and said. "There is no one by that name here."

"Never mind," Dean said as he held up his hand. "Who is the murderer?"

"His name is Christopher Willis. He was sitting in the library when he was murdered by an intruder."

"Wait did you see all those murders take place?" Dean asked. "Didn't you die back in the 1900s and this Chris got ganked much later."

"I am sorry," the maid lowered her head. "I was unable to save all those who died in this house after me. The two were fighting and one killed the other. I spoke with him and all he said was his name was Christopher."

"Okay stop," Dean said and sighed. "What was your name again?"

"Lydia, sir."

"Lydia the past is past. What I want to know is why Chris is killing folks now."

"He only kills on the anniversary of his murder," Lydia said. "He only kills when the museum is closed and he never kills any security guards."

"It makes sense," Dean said as he put the pieces together. "He only kills those he views are breaking in. During the day when the museum is open to public and that means everyone is invited and considered guests but at night when its closed people who are not working are obviously breaking in." He pulled out his phone and called Cas. "Hey it's not the maid. It's Christopher Willis. Bring the two Junior Ghostbusters you found up here on the third floor."

"We are on our way," Cas said.

"Stay out of the library," Dean informed him before hanging up. "Lydia you have been a great up, but I would really appreciate if you hand over the keys back to the original owner."

"I will leave her body," Lydia said. "And tell her I'm sorry." Her ghostly form stepped out of Donovan's body. She spun around. "I'm sorry." She flickered twice before disappearing.

Donovan gasped. She was gulping at air in short and rapid breaths. She looked like she wanted to scream but did not have enough air in her lungs.

"Easy," Dean said as removed his long duster coat and wrapped it around her to keep her from going in to shock. "Breath nice and slow." He held her close and rubbed her back. Being possessed by even just a ghost had to take its toll on her, but he knew what was even more traumatic was the fact that she had to have realized what he had said was true.

"What," Donovan finally spoke. Her word came out in a small whisper. "What happened?"

"You were possessed by a ghost," Dean informed her.

"Oh," was all she said before her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted.

"Great," Dean groaned as he hefted the DI into his arms. He had to get her to safety before he could round up everyone to go grave hunting to find Christopher Willis's bones. He had no idea where to take her though.

When he stepped out of the room he knew they were not alone in the hall. He had hoped it was Cas and Charlie, or any of the Ghostfacers. He had hoped it wasn't the ghost of Christopher Willis. He felt relieved when a beam from a flashlight found his face. He blinked when the light moved out and saw that it was Greg Lestrade on the other end.

"Dean Winchester?" Lestrade was completely surprised to see him. His hair was shorter than the last time Dean had seen him. "What are you doing here?" He was not alone. Standing near him with their hands cuffed together was Spruce with a woman who looked young enough to be college aged with blond hair.

"Ah hell," Spruce said when he recognized Dean.

"Who is that?" The intern asked.

"Remember those assholes we told you about, Helen?" Spruce asked and waited for the intern to nod. "This is the one with anger issues."

"I do not have anger issues," Dean told him. "We came across each other before a ghost-"

"Yeah you do," Spruce interrupted. "I gave you a compliment and you gave me the finger. I had it on video. Oh wait we had it on video until a couple of jerk bags erased everything we had." He turned to Lestrade. "He and his brother had an EMF bomb go off on our base of operations. He wiped out our hard drives and completely erased all of our hard work."

"Your hard work ended up causing your intern's life," Dean said before he caught the eye of the blonde. "Did they tell you about what happened to Corbett?"

"She knew the job was dangerous when she took it."

"Enough," Lestrade said as he stood in between them and held up his hands. "Do I need to separate…you…two?" His words had started strong before they faded and his eyes filled with sadness.

"You okay there, Greg?" Dean asked him.

"Nothing," Greg said and closed his eyes. "Not now." He shook his head and pointed at Donovan. "What happened to her?"

"A ghost took over her body," Dean explained. "Told me our not so friendly spook is Christopher Willis and he likes to do his ganking in the library."

"She was ghost possessed?" The intern asked.

"Hey uh officer can you run our EMF over her?" Spruce asked.

"No," Lestrade barked and stared at the two in disgust. "What is wrong with you?"

"I ask myself every time I meet these guys," Dean answered. "And these two are part of the reason why Cas, Charlie and I are here and why I sucked down some Dramamine and flew over here."

"Castiel is here?" The intern asked in a hopeful turn. "My name is Helen and I loved watching the video. Is he a real angel?" She had a dreamy look in her eyes.

"One he is here, two not anymore, three I am not talking to you unless I am going to give you an order."

"Castiel came with you," Greg said. "What about Sam?"

"He's still stateside with our new hunter friend," Dean answered. A part of him was worried that Sherlock's name would slip out due to the site of the former DI. "It's just me, him and another friend named Charlie. She's a computer genius and there is another reason we are here, but I don't want to discuss it in front of Barbie and camera boy."

"I see," Greg said. "Have you come across John?"

"Not yet," Dean answered as he carefully climbed down the stairs with Donovan in his arms. "I plan on seeing him again." He owed it to Sherlock to speak with their friend and he owed it to John. He felt like taking him out for a beer.

"I believe he would appreciate if you gave him a call."

Cas and Charlie were waiting for them down stairs along with an annoyed Harry Spangler and Maggie Zeddmore. The two Ghostfacers were even more annoyed at the site of their comrades in cuffs but when Harry had a good look at Dean he was pissed off.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry demanded.

"Saving you," Dean answered. "Now shut up."

"The cops are here?" Charlie asked in a worried tone.

"This one is a friend," Cas said as he recognized Lestrade.

"What happened to her?" Charlie asked.

"She was possessed by a ghost," Spruce explained. "Took too much out of her."

_Heaven help me_, Dean thought as the group clamored with excitement about Donovan's possession.

"This is not cool," Cas said. He had grabbed Spangler by the collar and stared deep into his eyes. "A woman was possessed and there is still a ghostly murderer on the loose."

"Thank you, Cas," Dean said.

"There is a murderer here?" Greg asked. "Is it another werewolf or a demon, or is it a ghost?"

"It's a ghost," Spangler said as he stood in front of the camera that Maggie held up. "We are in the mansion to track down the ghosts here and find the one who is the mysterious murderer."

"All right that's enough," Cas said as he snatched the camera out of Maggie's hands. He ignored their protests while he handed it to Lestrade. "Take this under police evidence before I break it." Dean was going to treat him when they returned home.

"Gladly," Lestrade said as he took the camera.

"Now before anyone says anything else we know who the ghost is," Dean said. "His name is Christopher Willis and-"

"Christopher Willis," Spangler repeated as he held up his phone. "This is Team Falcon claw from the Eagle's nest to team Super Hawk. We have ID'd the ghost as Christopher Willis."

"Got it," Ed Zeddmore's voice was heard at the other end. "We are looking for the body now."

"Give that to me," Charlie said as she snatched phone from Spangler's hand. "Where are you?"

"Who is that?" Zeddmore asked.

"I'm Charlie and never mind who this is. Where the hell are you?"

"Let me see." Lestrade held his free hand out and once he received the phone he placed it against his ear. "This is detective sergeant Lestrade of Scotland Yard. Where is your location?" He was met with a few curses and someone asking the other what they should do.

"They're in the cemetery," Maggie answered. "One group was going to be in the cemetery."

"We figured that whoever is haunting the place was probably buried on the family lot," Spangler added in a cocky and proud tone. "So Ed and Jerry are there with shovels, salt and lighter fluid."

"You guys figure out what ghost it is and tell them and they dig it up and burn it," Dean said in an amused tone. "You guys actually did something smart for once."

"They are going to be desecrating the grave?" Lestrade asked.

"To get rid of a ghost you have to salt and burn their bones," Dean explained. "I have to find her someplace safe and go help them."

"Make a salt circle?" Maggie suggested. "We have a few containers in our bag."

There were three canisters in the bag. Dean supervised while Harry, Maggie and Cas made a large ring of salt in one floor. It was going to be a bitch for the museum employees to clean it but right now he didn't care.

"That is one big circle," Charlie said.

"Big enough for you four stooges to get inside," Dean said as he nodded towards Spruce and the other intern. "Get in now."

"You are not going to leave her with them," Greg said as the Ghostfacers walked into the ring.

"I was hoping you would stay with her," Dean told him. "But I was also hoping you would also come with us. You look like someone who can handle a shovel pretty well."

"I've done my own gardening," Greg said with a smile. "But who will stay with Sally?"

"Charl-"

"Uh no," Charlie said and shook her head. "You really need to clean all the sexism out of your brain there, royal handmaid. You damn well know I can handle almost anything and I'm pretty strong. I can lift a shovel as easy as a sword."

"Cas will stay with her," Dean said. "You are okay staying behind with them?"

"I'll be fine," Cas said as he gently took Donovan out of Dean. "She will need me when she wakes up."

"Be gentle with her," Greg told him.

"One last instruction," Dean had started.

"Why are you giving us orders?" Spangler asked.

"He is the leader," Charlie replied.

"And I have two of you under arrest," Greg said. "I plan on originally bringing the whole lot of you in for questioning, but I might lessen the charges depending on your level of cooperation."

Spangler and Maggie looked at each other for a few seconds before they looked at Spruce and Hannah who just held up their hands at the same time and jingled the chain of the cuffs that connected the two of them together.

"We'll listen," Maggie said.

"File this under a list of good ideas," Dean said." If Ed calls you and has anything important to say then you tell Cas and Cas will call me and this is of course before we get there."

* * *

It was a long walk from the main building to the cemetery. Dean ran as fast as he could with his legs. Greg was able to keep up but Charlie was a few feet behind. When they were half way there Dean slowed down to a fast walk.

"Did you bring any shovels?" Greg asked a few minutes of walking.

"Brought them and hid them in the cemetery," Charlie answered. "We knew we were going be digging and salting and burning."

"Didn't know how prepared these guys were," Dean said.

They had reached the halfway point to the cemetery when Dean's phone rung.

"Hello, Cas," Dean greeted.

"The woman known as Sally Donovan is waking up," Cas answered. "She believes me to be your partner. She doesn't know about what I once was and she is now learning about ghosts. Her mind has been more open since what had happened to her."

"I'm glad you are there for her," Dean told him. "Is there something else?"

"I have been informed of what had happened at the grave site," Cas said. "They said the soil had been disturbed. Someone had dug it up before."

"Damn it."

"What is it?" Charlie asked.

"I think we might have to look for something of his."

"I have our notes and our museum brochure," Charlie answered as she held up a note book. "Maybe it will list where they kept his hair or something else."

"We'll check the bones anyway," Dean said. "It might not have been burned before." He noticed the way Greg was looking at him. "If the body of a ghost has been cremated or the bones have received the salt and burn treatment and they are still haunting a place then we look for a personal item, such as hair, fingernail anything that might have their DNA and burn it."

"You believe someone might have burned his bones before?"

"By some local hunters," Charlie answered as she handed the brochure to Greg. "He said they have already taken care of the ghost a couple years ago."

"But they clearly haven't," Greg said. "Do you still have the number?"

"Calling him now," Dean said as he pressed the numbers to Harold's.

"Hello." Harold's voice was heard on the other end

"Harold this is Dean Winchester."

"Dean, ah yes, you are hunting ghosts at the Willis Estate," Harry said. "Do you need any back up?"

"I am just wondering whose bones they dug up." Dean asked.

"I'll have to call you back," Harry said.

"Great," Dean grumbled after he was hung up on. "We gotta move."

The three of them were racing towards the gravestones when Dean heard the sound of a rifle being fired. The ghost had to have appeared there and doubted if Zeddmore and the other intern were able to handle firearms or at least shoot them with perfect aim.

Dean had his shotgun ready as he neared the cemetery and looked around for any signs of the living and undead. He saw two shadows and one of them fired again. Their faces became clearer as they grew nearer and Dean could see the glasses of Zeddmore and the bright red hair of the intern. The two were looking around both at the ground and the sky.

A ghost of a man flickered into view right behind the intern.

"Ed turn around!" Dean shouted.

"Look out," Greg added.

"Shoot him," Charlie shouted.

Their three cries came out too late. The ghost phased his hand into the back of the intern and there was a loud and sickening crunch as blood trickled out of his mouth.


	7. Chapter 6: The Frighteners

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 6: The Frighteners_

* * *

Dean didn't waste any more seconds and aimed his gun at the ghost and fired. His salt rock bullet struck him in the middle of his head causing the spirit to disappear.

"Jesus Christ," Lestrade was the first to speak.

"Jerry," Zeddmore cried out as he crumpled to his knees and cradled the body of the young intern.

"No don't drop your weapon," Charlie cried out. "First rule of horror movies is that you never drop your gun or knife, even if you think the monster or killer is dead you don't drop your weapon. Always go for the double tap at least."

Dean was the first to reach Zeddmore and the intern. The young man that they hired had left a puddle of blood on soil and stained the denim clad legs of the Ghostfacer. The intern's eyes were rolled back and appeared glazed. His complexion was so pale it could rival Sherlock's.

"Dean," Charlie cried out and fired her gun.

Dean bolted to his feet and turned around as the ghost dissipated again. He turned to see Charlie smile slightly.

"Can I have one of those special guns?" Lestrade asked.

"Here," Dean said as he tossed him the handgun. "Safety is still on."

"This looks like a regular pistol," Lestrade said as he examined the gun. "Let me take a guess and say the power is in the bullets."

"They contain salt," Dean explained.

"Ghosts are repelled by salt," Lestrade said.

"It's ghost acid," Zeddmore said softly.

"You." Dean's voice came out in a growl. "How many team members are going to die because of your idiocy?"

"I don't need this," Zeddmore said as he stood up. "I don't need any of you Winchesters lecturing us."

"Someone has…to," his phone rang, cutting him off in the middle of his lecture. "I'll bitch at you later." He brought the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Talked to the Hunters who worked on the Willis case," Harold's voice was on the other end. "They ghost they burned was named Charles Willis."

"Oh crap," Dean grumbled. "We have to find a personal item of his."

"They took care of that as well," Harold said. "They found a pipe of his and burned that as well. If there are any other personal items then they are not at the mansion."

"Double crap," Dean said and licked his lips. "Thanks for your help."

"Are you certain you don't need any back up? I know a couple of hunters that are not far from where you are and they can just swing by."

"We'll be fine for now," Dean told him. "If we do need help I know who to call." He slammed his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket "Damn."

"I've heard crap and damn," Lestrade said. "What is wrong?"

"Charles Willis's bones have been exhumed and burned," Dean explained. "His only personal item that was here was also burned."

"Crap," Charlie and Zeddmore said.

"There has to be some way to stop this thing," Lestrade. "There has to be something that we are missing. There is a clue or a detail." He closed his eyes. "What do we know?"

"That he is coming back," Charlie gasped.

Dean spun around until his focus fell on a grayish transparent man in his late twenties. He was dressed in a modest pinstripe suit with a handkerchief with C. W. embroidered into it and eyes were set in a death glare.

"How dare you," the ghost hissed. "How dare you break into my home after all I have done?" He dissipated as two shots were fired.

Dean lowered his gun the same time as Lestrade. He inhaled deeply and stared at the gravestone. Charles Willis was born in 1890. The ghost they shot looked too young.

"He's too young," Dean said. "Charles Willis was in his 40's."

"Maybe the original ghost was Charles Willis," Zeddmore suggested. "This could be a copycat ghost."

"There are no copycat ghosts," Dean snapped. "Ghosts don't imitate another ghost like living criminals; maybe if you did your freaking research you would know that." He rubbed his head. "I can't even look at you right now; your stupidity is making my IQ run away."

"Turn around," Lestrade commanded as he pointed at Zeddmore. "Look the other way."

"What?" Zeddmore asked.

"Sorry that was a force of habit."

"Force of habit?" Charlie asked. "Oh from working with Sherlock?"

"Gotta try and think like him." Dean said. "He had this thing a mind palace." Dean closed his eyes as he focused on the facts. The ghost was young and his suit looked more modern and not something they wore back in the thirties. He also had his hair styled like George Clooney back in his ER days. Charles was murdered in the library according to Lydia, unless she was lying and it seemed like she was lying about everything. Hunters have been here before. The estate was around for centuries before it closed twenty years ago and the anniversary murders had started fifteen years ago.

"It's a different ghost," Dean said.

"I think we may have established that," Charlie said.

"No a different Charles Willis," Dean said as he recalled the handkerchief. "It's not uncommon for families like this to recycle names." He turned and pointed at the Ghostfacer. "How long have these ghostly killings been going on?"

"Fifteen years," Zeddmore answered.

"The Charles Willis we are looking for died back in 1998."

"1997," Lestrade corrected.

"Right," Dean said and smacked the side of his head. "The hauntings wouldn't have started until a year after the guy got snuffed."

"I only know because I worked on the case," Lestrade said. "Charles was here working on something for the family when a thief broke in and murdered him. All the evidence pointed to a disgruntled security guard and I was wrong. It was one of the accountants for the family." He paused to smile. "I had help with that case from this seventeen year old boy who knew more than I did and was persistent. I didn't come across that boy again for about eight years."

"Was Sherlock as annoying back then as well?" Dean asked.

"Yes he was and I still miss the attitude and him."

"He's back," Zeddmore shouted.

Dean turned around and fired his gun at the ghost.

"Can't waste any more time," Dean said. "Everyone look for a more recent headstone."

"Would he be buried here?" Charlie asked.

"He's haunting the place." Dean walked around looking at the tombstones. He glanced up to see everyone else also looking around. He paused by the tarp that was covered in leaves and pulled it back, revealing three shovels. Dean picked them up.

"Found it," Zeddmore said.

"Ed, grab your shovel." Dean ordered as they ran to where Zeddmore was. "The three of you dig. I'll watch out for him."

Charlie was the first to break ground and Lestrade followed. The three diggers had a rhythm of taking turns with taking scoops out of the dirt. Dean kept his watch. His senses were all on alert while he never set his gun down. He had fired at the ghost once when their group had reached three feet.

"Hit the coffin," Lestrade said.

"Open it," Dean ordered. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Charlie breaking through the wood.

"How dare you," Charles hissed out again. The ghost had appeared again.

"Salt and burn guys," Dean ordered. He placed the blunt end of his gun through the transparent chest of the ghost. He could hear the salt being poured.

"You were a friend to my family," Charles said. "How could you?"

"Sorry you were deceived by a douche," Dean said. His finger was against the trigger as he heard diesel being poured.

"You won't get away," Charles reached forward as flames appeared on his body he cried out in pain as he was burned away.

Dean turned around to face the rest of the group. Ed was kneeling beside his fallen comrade again while Charlie walked around. He could tell she was looking for something else or at least on guard to make certain there was nothing else was out there. He didn't see Lestrade until he felt a pat on his shoulder and the older man was standing next to him.

"I'm calling Donovan," the former DI said. "We have to make arrests for these so called Ghostfacers and arrangements for the body."

Dean nodded and called Cas's number.

* * *

Dean felt it would be better for everyone to grieve before he gave them an earful. Dean stepped back and watched as the Ghostfacers gathered around the young man that Dean never gotten to know. Both Maggie and the new girl cried and held onto each other while Spangler and looked on sadly.

"Are you going to listen?" Dean asked once he made sure they had their moment. "Or are you going to be morons for the rest of your lives, going off to places that have vengeful spirits?"

"How about some damn respect?" Harry asked as he stood up and tried to look Dean in the eyes.

"How about you don't break into places to look for ghosts?" Dean asked.

"In that case you should follow your own advice," Ed told him.

"The difference between you and real hunters is that we don't do it to boost website ratings. We do it to save people and to protect them. We are professionals."

"How many of your interns are you going to Spinal Tap until you learn?" Charlie asked.

"Exactly," Dean said and pointed at the blond female. "You stay with these guys then you are going to end up like your friend here someday."

"I think that's enough," Lestrade said as he pulled back Dean. "They have lost a friend. You don't need to be too harsh with them.

"You are right this isn't my home turf," Dean said as he relaxed. "This is your division."

"He's r-r-ight," Donovan said as she removed Dean's coat and handed it back to him. She was calm and quiet. She was still taking in everything and while Dean was still annoyed by her comments about Sherlock he was going to give her time. Everyone accepts the paranormal and supernatural a little bit differently.

"The five of you have been caught breaking and entering, loitering, trespassing and vandalism," Lestrade added as he walked around them. "I am deeply sorry that your associate had been killed by a mysterious murderer."

"We should also bring them in for grave desecration," Donovan added before looking at Lestrade. "Shouldn't we?"

"If you arrest them for that then we all have to go in," Lestrade said as he pointed to the shovel. "That's the only way to kill ghosts is by salting and burning their bones."

"Killing ghosts," Donovan said. "I can't believe I'm saying that. I can't believe they are actually real…but they are." She paused to swallow. "She moved my body around like a puppet. I felt like I was shoved against a wall in my own flesh and blood and watched myself move around says things I don't normally say."

"Ghosts can do that," Ed said while Maggie and Spruce voiced their agreement.

"And Demons too," Harry added.

"Yeah Demons can possess people too and angels," Maggie said.

"Just be glad it was ghost with a message," Ed spoke again. "And not a demon."

"Are they saying demons are real?" Donovan asked.

"Can you guys just shut up for once?" Dean asked. He had just about enough of them.

"They said demons are real," Donovan said as she looked up at Dean. "And angels?"

"Angels only take on a vessel if the vessel says yes to them," Cas explained and earned a small smack on the backside of his head from Charlie. "I wasn't supposed to say that was I?"

"Not helping," Dean said as placed his hand over his eyes.

"Demon and angels and ghosts," Donovan said as she shook her head. "Next thing you'll be telling me there are vampires and aliens and the boogeyman."

"Yes, no, and various forms," Dean answered.

"I'll fill you in," Lestrade said as he walked over to the Ghostfacers. "Now when you are on your own soil you think you can walk in anywhere and not bother with permits or permission, but you are on my land and this doesn't fly with me."

"But we we-" Ed started only to be interrupted by Donovan.

"Of all the irresponsible acts I have seen," the DI said as she paced around them. "And believe you and me I have seen plenty of irresponsible acts, mostly someone taking the law into their own hands. This reckless behavior has resulted in the death of your colleague."

Dean stepped back to let the cops do their job. He had a feeling either Lestrade or Donovan would want to speak with Dean's group after they finished busting the asses of the Ghostfacers.

"What's our next move?" Charlie asked.

"We clean up," Castiel said. "And we go back to our hotel. I believe we would be consuming food of course and showers and sleeping. There might be the possibility of porn on TV."

"I think she means what we are doing tomorrow," Dean told him. "We are going to speak with some local friends. There is Molly and of course John and I would like to say hello to Mrs. Hudson again."

"And Cas's brother," Charlie said in a worried tone.

"There is that," Dean said. "This Barachiel isn't going to try to kill you like the others is he?"

"He might," Cas said. "He's an archangel, but further down the rank. When they had made the accurate deduction of me becoming too close to you, Dean, and they took me back to Heaven, he was the one who was in charge of punishing me."

"Cas, I'm sorry," Dean said.

"He was loyal to Michael," Cas continued. "And when he and Lucifer fell, Barachiel was the one who withdrew the most. He would just stay in his favorite memoryscapes for months. He did not want to participate in the civil war. After I slew those who were loyal to Raphael he went to wander the world for a while until Naomi called him back."

"So is he going to wail on you?" Charlie asked.

"He is different from what he was when he punished me," Cas said. "I remember the memories that Naomi blanked from me. I had encountered him again. He only asked me 'why'".

"It is going to be tense, Cas," Dean told him as he placed his hand on his shoulder. "This I know for sure and he might get angry with you and he might just cry for all we know. You guys are not going to know unless you meet up with him and speak with him." He waited for a response and after a few seconds of nothing Dean spoke again. "If he does wail on you then we'll kick his ass."

"Thank you Dean," Cas said with a smile.

"Ahem," Charlie faked cough.

"Thank you too, Charlie."

"Dean," Lestrade called out as he walked back over to them. "We have radioed other officers and they will be here soon."

"Time for us to go," Dean said as he caught on.

"You are not going to just let them leave," Donovan said.

"They are Hunter's, Donovan," Lestrade said. "They hunt ghosts and monsters and leave or they-"

"Pretend to be officers," Donovan said as she placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows. "Or federal agents. Greg please do not take the side of another fraud. Look what he did to your career."

"Not a fraud," Dean said. "Sherlock Holmes was set up by Moriarty and Lestrade believes me."

"So do we," Charlie said as she waved her hand and then pointed at herself and Cas.

"He has you all fooled," Donovan said. "Lestrade as your superior officer I command you to arrest these three."

"Cas, Charlie," Dean said. "Run."

The three of them didn't waste any second and tore off through the lawn. They didn't slow down until they had cleared the estate and hit sidewalk.

"Where now?" Charlie asked. She was panting pretty hard.

"Take the alley ways until we put some distance," Dean instructed. "Then take a cab to our hotel." He hoped Greg would have convinced Donovan to not pursue them. The two did have handful of wannabe ghost hunters to take care of. They also had to make arrangements for the intern. He hoped the Ghostfacers would not try anything like this again and Dean wouldn't have to clean up after them anymore.


	8. Chapter 7: Sherly the Vampire Slayer

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 7: Sherly the Vampire Slayer_

* * *

_Wayne, Nebraska_

Sherlock had been in several different bars, pubs, and taverns for investigations, mostly for undercover work. His drink of choice would depend heavily on the atmosphere of the drinking establishment. When a bar was more upscale and attracted sophisticated clientele he would have a glass of wine, at a more sports theme pub he would have a mixed drink, at a bar that aimed towards the college age he would have something more along the line of daiquiri and at the most seediest taverns he would have a pint, even though he didn't care for the taste he would drink it down until he had the information that he needed.

The bar he and Sam had visited that evening fell somewhere in the middle. There were few TV screens and two had different sports games on and the third had the local news. There were pool tables and in addition to drinks this one offered food in the form of chicken wings, fries, onion rings and nachos. The drink of choice for the night was a top shelf margarita.

Sherlock slowly sipped his drink while he watched as Sam was finishing up his billiards game. They both took turns hustling the game. Sherlock surprised Sam with his knowledge of the game. He was able to knock his entire group of balls into the pockets, even the eighth one before the other had a turn or if the other player went first had the only one.

"I haven't seen you around before," a woman in her early thirties said. She had wavy chestnut hair that fell around her shoulders and wore a slinky red dress with no sleeves. Her attire gave her away as someone who was looking for a good time, but not desperate. The shape and hold of each wave told Sherlock that she was someone who worked in an office and kept her hair in a bun.

"I'm just passing through," Sherlock answered. He used a slight southern drawl to his American accent. He took another sip from his drink.

"Oh I see," the woman said. Her lipstick matched her dress. She was trying to make a good impression. Her eye shadow of choice was more of a nude shade and chose no mascara. She did not want to come on too strong and that was evidence by the simple gold drop earrings in her ears and the gold necklace around her throat. "Do you have a name?"

"Robert," Sherlock answered and wondered why she still bothers with chatting him up when he was clearly not interested in her.

"Do people ever call you, Bobby?"

"Some." He took another sip of his margarita and turned his focus to the nearest television and pretended to be interested in the boxing match.

"I'm here with a few friends," she said before she walked off. She was not disappointed and Sherlock knew that meant she had yet to give up. She was persistent. Even Molly was never that aggressive when she was hitting on him and damn why was he thinking of Molly at a time like this?

"Monica is harmless," Tim the bartender said as he finished scrubbing a group of smaller glasses that were used to serve simple hard spirits on the rocks. "She's not looking for a one night stand. She is actually looking for someone to date for a while." His placid expression was replaced with a smirk. "Make it to the fifth date and that's when the fireworks happen."

"Isn't that oversharing?" Sherlock asked.

"Most people know that."

"And after the fifth date it's over?" Sherlock asked. He turned back to Sam when he heard the other hunter laugh in triumph at winning yet another game.

"She actually has long term relationships. The last guys lasted for nine months."

"And she has her eyes set on me," Sherlock said before he finished his drink. He thought about ordering another when a second margarita appeared almost by magic.

"Monica bought you another," Sandy, the other bartender said. "Looks like the game is on for her and you're the target." She slid her way down the bar and poured a couple of beers for a couple in their mid-twenties.

"That's what she does," Tim said. "She sees what you are drinking and keeps buying you drinks."

"Is she trying to get me drunk in hopes that I would go home with her?" Sherlock asked as he studied the drink. It was freshly made and when he sniffed it he could only smell lime and tequila.

"That is her end game," Tim said and watched as Sherlock continued to study his drink. "I just watched Sandy make that and Monica never left her table while it was being made."

"I see." He took a sip. The margarita tasted just like the one before.

"Trust me she is harmless, now Cindy Culpepper is one to watch out for. Monica is an angel compared to her. It was a complete shock when she disappeared for over twenty four hours a few months ago and then showed up. She said she felt a bit of wanderlust and it wasn't like her."

"Disappeared," Sherlock repeated. He and Sam came to the town because of the reports of several missing people. Half of them had shown up dead with strange bite marks in their necks and completely drained of blood. This Monica was one of the few that had returned safe.

"She is one of the lucky ones. There is also Caleb who disappeared for a couple of days and returned and some have seen Trisha."

"Caleb Howser and Trisha O'Conner?" Sherlock asked. Those were two of the names of people that were reported missing. Sherlock remembered seeing one of the officers put a strike through Caleb's name. His name wasn't the only one with a strike through it. Sherlock remembered seeing Monica's name and she did seem pale, paler than he was.

"I need you to do me a favor," Sherlock said slowly and adjusted the way he sat so his drink was cut off from view. "Replace this with a new drink, one made out of the same kind of ice used but also with a mix of lime juice and water. Use two drops of yellow and one drop of green food coloring to get the exact color."

"Is this part of your investigation?" Tim asked as he quietly took away Sherlock's glass and dumped the contents down the sink. Sherlock had revealed that he and Sam were private investigators.

"Do everything I say," Sherlock ordered and slipped Tim a crisp twenty dollar bill. "Once I have finished this one have another prepared."

"Got it," Tim said and handed him the fake margarita.

Sherlock drank about half of it before he turned to face Monica and her friends and held up his drink and took another sip. He noticed the way she smiled and the hungry glint in her eyes. As he turned back towards the boxing match he had caught Sam's gaze and the questioning look in the younger man's eyes.

ALL PART OF THE INVESTIGATION. Sherlock texted to him. I WILL PRETEND TO BE DRUNK.

YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING I HOPE. Sam had texted back.

Sherlock finished his faux drink and sure enough Monica had walked up to Sandy and gave her more money. A couple of minutes passed and Sandy placed another margarita down in front of him.

"Thank you, Monica," Sherlock said as he held up his drink to toast her. He squeezed the glass too hard, causing it to slip and spilled half the drink down on the counter. "Oh damn I'm clumshy."

"Don't worry," Tim said as he took the glass from him. "I got it covered." He wiped down the mess and made another fake drink behind the counter. "No additional cost." He handed Sherlock his drink.

Sherlock drained his glass while he cheered one of the boxer's, the one that was winning. He grew louder, stood up and cheered, and threw a few fake punches. A few times he would spin around and flirt with Monica. He even tried to sing to her, using the umbrella-sword he bought along as microphone substitute.

When he received his fourth glass Sherlock smiled at Monica before he turned to Tim and shook his head. He took a long drink, tilting back the glass until half of the contents splashed on his face and the collar of his shirt.

"I want another," Sherlock demanded as he smacked the counter. "Gif me another drink."

"I think you had enough," Tim said. "No more. Sandy, we are cutting him off."

"Like hell you are," Sherlock said and pounded the counter with his fist. "I want another margyrita. Gimme another 'rita. I want another."

"I think it's time for you to leave."

"Not until I get my drink."

"Now." Tim walked around the bar and grabbed Sherlock from his back collar. "Come one." He led Sherlock through the bar towards the door. "Walk it off." He shoved him out the door.

"Loushy service," Sherlock complained as he made himself nearly trip before he staggered his way down the street, nearly walking into telephone poles, lamp posts and mail boxes. He continued to stagger as he texted Sam the game was on.

* * *

It had been about twenty minutes since Sherlock had staggered out of the bar and he managed to meander his way down a few blocks. He was getting tired of walking that way. He made certain to run into a parked car and a sign on the street, yell at some cat as it walked past him and dropped his umbrella a few times as well.

Sam had texted him a few minutes ago asking what he was doing and Sherlock told him it was part of the plan. They would find the nest and rescue those who were still alive. He had seen Sam pocket his winnings and leave the bar after he had drained the last of his own beer. Sam would sit behind the wheel of the Impala and wait for Sherlock to give him a sign.

A few cars had driven past him on the street, not a single one paused or stopped, unless it was at a stop sign. He knew what was going on with Monica and her nest and he was certain they did not see him when he swapped out the real drinks for the fake ones.

It took him another five minutes of stumbling before he realized he was being followed by a car and by the hum of the engine he knew it wasn't the Impala. He could see the pavement in front of him as well as the surrounding street and sparse grass and clay like dirt become illuminated by the headlights.

"Hey, buddy are you okay?" A male voice asked.

"I'm fine," Sherlock said as he spun around and nearly fell onto the ground. "Jusht fine."

"You don't look it." The same man said from before as he hung out from the passenger side window. He was as pale as Monica with dark hair in a crew-cut, by the hair style and muscle tone Sherlock knew he was in the military or was before being turned.

"I look better than you." Sherlock pointed a bent finger at the man and made sure his arm was unsteady. "When you wake up you will look like, like… your face, and I look like, like…a face." He teetered backwards into a tree.

"I don't think you should be out here and alone in your condition."

"What condition? I'm not shick. I am pure awesome."

"I know this isn't a cab, but maybe we could give you a ride home?" He opened the door and stepped out. "This town really isn't safe after dark. A lot of people have gone missing and some ended up dead."

"Maybe they got into a car with strangersh." Sherlock placed his umbrella down and he leaned on it as if it were a cane. "And you are strangersh. I should say no to you because you are strange…looking." He forced himself to laugh until he fell over.

"Easy there." The vampire said and walked over to him. He grabbed Sherlock by his shoulders and helped him to his feet. "Danny won't drive you too fast. I remember being really hammered and fast cars made me throw up. We'll take you home nice and slow."

"If you want to date me then you have to buy me a drink first," Sherlock said as he was being lead into the car.

"I think you had enough." He opened the door to the back and helped Sherlock inside. He nearly had to pick Sherlock up to get him to sit in the back seat and buckled him in. "Is this too tight?"

"Ish what too tight?"

"I think you will be fine for now, you can call me Mike."

"You can call me Ishmael."

"So we have a literary scholar," Mike said after he closed the door.

"You like to read?" The man in the driver seat asked. He was tall, black, was well manicured and wore a t-shirt and blue jeans. He was an office worker before he was taken.

"I read boooooksss," Sherlock slumped over to his right until his face was pressed against the glass and closed his eyes.

"Damn," Danny said as Mike buckled up. "How much did Monica give him?"

"Plenty," Mike answered. "Now drive."

Sherlock had carefully slid out his phone from his pocket and hid it under his shirt while he texted Sam. He gave the other hunter the name of the street he was picked up on and the fact they were heading south. He counted the blocks until they made a right on Alvin St for several more blocks before they got on the highway. They drove past two more exits before they exited in Carriage. Drove for fifteen miles before left on what appeared as Vine on a battered sign before turning right on an old dirt road. He thought that was the last until ten minutes later they turned left onto a different dirt road.

"Do we have to carry him?" Danny asked once he had stopped the car.

"We carried in others," Mike reminded him.

That was all the conversation Sherlock had planned on listening in on. With deft hands he unfastened his seatbelt, grabbed his umbrella, opened the door and ran.

"Holy shit," Mike shouted.

"Dude, grab him," Danny yelled out.

Sherlock could hear them running behind him as he held tight to the curved handled of the umbrella with one hand and the bottom with the other hand he carefully twisted it until he heard the latch come undone.

"Got him," Danny shouted just foot behind Sherlock.

Sherlock pulled the blade out from the umbrella and spun around. With one swipe he had removed Danny's head.

He could see Mike race towards him with his mouth open and long pointed teeth exposed. It took Sherlock a few dodges and side steps to avoid the enraged vampire. Their dance lasted for a few seconds before Mike's head rolled through the fallen leaves and grass.

"Thank you, Mycroft," Sherlock said as he set the bottom half of the umbrella on the body of Mike and will know where to pick it up later and looked around. There was a large log cabin not far away from where they had parked and there were a few other cars there.

Sherlock knew not to go charging in, not until Sam had arrived and they had a plan. He could still case the dwelling to see what they are up against. With cat like prowess he slinked around the dwelling, keeping mostly to the shadows and took care on where he stepped.

There was another vampire standing outside by a window. He wasn't guarding it. He didn't look alert or bored. The expression on his face was pensive and the glowing bit or orange from the lit cigarette explained why.

Sherlock watched as the vampire took a long drag from the cigarette before he raced towards him from the side and with one fast sweep from the blade sliced his head clear off. The cigarette flew from the vampire's decapitated head and landed on the ground.

"John and the others were right," Sherlock said softly as he picked up the cigarette. "These things can kill you." He took one short drag from it before he dropped it on the ground and stamped it out. "Now what do we have here?" He peered into the window.

What he saw was one room that was filled mostly by a cage filled with several people. Some were standing and looking through the bars with desperation in their eyes, others were sitting on the ground amongst empty soda cans, fast food wrappers and crisp bags, and there were a few on the ground who were barely moving. Now he knew where the victims were.

He practically embraced the cabin as he slid along the walls a few feet at a time, stopping whenever he heard a sound and didn't move again until it was all quiet. He froze again when he was about to reach a window and heard guitar strumming. He looked inside and saw a man sitting in a chair and picking at the strings of a guitar. There was one at least.

Sherlock started to creep when his hand brushed against the fingers of another hand. He tried to raise his sword but two other hands grabbed his wrist and squeezed, nearly crushing the bones.

"This is the thanks I get for buying you those drinks?" Monica's voice was heard before he felt something hard and fast strike the back of his head and everything went dark.


	9. I Want to Do Bad Things To You

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 8: I Want to do Bad Things to You_

* * *

Sherlock woke up when he felt a cup of lukewarm water strike his face. Even before he opened his eyes he could tell he was in a chair with his wrists bound to the arms of the seat by rope and his ankles were equally bound. He heard a few chuckles and swearing and next to him was sobbing.

"For Christ's sake, J.T., you didn't have to hit him that hard," Monica said as she glared at a man dressed in male designer jeans and a dark shirt. It was hard to tell everyone's appearance in the dimly lit room. He could at least see there were six others besides Monica and J.T.

"You didn't warn us that you baited a Hunter," J.T. said.

"How the hell could I know?" Monica asked as she threw up her hands. "He seemed like some ordinary guy." She walked over to him. "Besides he was able to fight despite being so shit faced and if he faked getting drunk well that is pretty darn clever."

"You just want him because of his face," another man said. He was Hispanic and had a lip ring. He wore a black shirt with white text Keep Calm and Chive On.

"Why did Trevor bring in the girl?" Monica pointed to Sherlock's right. Her crimson painted nail indicated the young sobbing woman with blond hair in a messy braid who was also tied to a chair in the same manner as Sherlock.

"I think we should feast on him, now," another woman said. She was tall and black and wore a leather jacket. "Get some payback for what he did to the others."

"No," Monica said as she brushed her fingers against Sherlock's face. "I do have to admit I did fall for these gorgeous cheekbones and such kissable lips and these pretty ginger curls." She ran her fingers through his hair. "He has such a deep voice and look at these hands and feet. You know what they say about men with those features." She ran her fingers down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt along the way before brushed it against the inseam along his thigh.

"If you think I will sleep with you then you are greatly mistaken," Sherlock told her as he tried to keep his legs from moving.

"What the," Monica said and stepped back.

"I thought he was from the south," a different woman said. She had had long shiny fingernails and short hair. She was Trisha, one of the missing."You baited a Brit."

"Well, Bobby which one is real," Monica said. "The accent from the bar or here?"

"You have changed your hairstyle," Sherlock said. "You pulled half of it in a ponytail. You usually wear all of it up but early you had it all loose and by the citrus like scent of your hair I can tell you favor the Aussie brand of shampoo. You also have adjusted the top of your dress to reveal more cleavage in hopes to attract me, thinking that I am only interested in women for their décolletage."

"Way to fail," J.T. laughed.

"And you, J.T. are trying to pass yourself off as someone with good taste, or at least someone with money," Sherlock continued as his eyes have adjusted to the weak light. "Those blue jeans cost at least sixty dollars and are from a department store, the silk shirt at least forty. The haircut cost about thirty and you wanted to keep those ridiculous sideburns meaning you want to have a bit of a rich cowboy look." He hunched down as far as he could. "Ah yes ninety dollar cowboy boots and those are not new but have quite the luster. You take about an hour to polish them twice a week."

"The hell?" J.T. asked and pointed at him.

"He's got your number, J.T.," Another man laughed. It was Caleb.

"How the hell did you do that?" J.T. demanded.

"A learned skill," Sherlock told him as he looked over to the other prisoner. "Were you the one to kidnap this under-drinking-age Sorority girl?"

"How did you know?" Monica asked.

"It's simple. There is a lack of any scent of alcohol on her as there is a lack of scent of beer, or wine cooler, or any other drink. The only thing she was drinking tonight was either water or a soft drink. There is also the stamp on her left hand that says she is underage. She is wearing a necklace with the letters indicating Phi Sigma Sigma."

"You see," Monica said in triumph as she turned around to face the others. "He's smart. You know what I just insulted him with that. Bobby here is a genius."

"We could use a genius," Caleb said.

"He could fill our British quota," Trisha said.

"We don't have a British quota," The man with the lip ring said.

"Well we do now, Hector," Monica said. "Trevor, come on and claim yours."

"Gladly," a tall and lanky man in jeans and a letterman said as he walked over to the college student. "Time to get a new taste on life." He opened his mouth as his sharp teeth slid out and bit into his wrist. He grabbed the girl by the back of her hair and shoved his bleeding wrist into her mouth.

"Trevor doesn't know how to treat a lady," Monica said. "Or a lover, but I doubt he had one, at least in a while." She bit into her wrist before she sucked in her own blood.

Sherlock felt himself freeze with panic. He had hoped that if he had kept them talking it would give Sam enough time, but apparently the talk was over and Sherlock knew from how long it took for the others to bring him to the location and how far he was from the bar it would take Sam four and half more minutes to reach the cabin.

Sherlock braced himself and closed his eyes when Monica pressed her lips against his. He tried to keep his mouth closed, but her fingers pried it open and kept it open long enough for her to spit the blood into his mouth, followed by her tongue.

"That is the right way to do it," Monica said as she stepped back.

Sherlock spat the blood out and continued to spit with the hope he got everything out. He felt sick and tired and weak. A new fear gripped him when he realized he wasn't able to get it all out and the transformation had begun. He tried to stay awake but drifted off only to snap up his head after what could have only been a few minutes.

"So what are we going to do with James Bond?" Caleb asked.

"I still can't believe we turned him," the black woman said. "Should have thrown him in the cage with the rest of the food at least."

"He is a Hunter, Monica," J.T said. "He aint just going to help us bait."

"I think turning him is a better punishment than just killing him," Caleb said. "We can't be the first to turn a Hunter into one of us."

"Fine," the black woman said as she threw up her hands. "We keep him locked up and starve him. He's practically immortal now, so we can beat him and stab him and shoot him."

"Charlotte," Monica said in a warning tone.

"He needs to pay," Charlotte said.

Sherlock only half listened to them. He focused on how he felt. He was no longer tired and his nausea had faded as the room seemed to have grown brighter and brighter. He noticed the girl next to him was sitting upright and she was blinking in surprise.

"What is your name?" Sherlock whispered to the girl.

"Jamie. What is going on? What's happening?"

"Jamie I'm Robert. Now I want you to stay with me. I am feeling the same as you."

"What are they and did they give me some kind of disease?" Jamie asked. "Am I going to die? Are they going to kill us?"

"Resist the urge to feed and we will both live." Sherlock looked up at the group of vampires. They were no longer arguing. "Finally came to a conclusion?"

"We are going to get a nice cage for you," J.T. said in an amused tone. "We'll give you a water dish and a rubber ball and make sure we'll clean out the wood chips once a week."

"Comparing me to a pet rodent," Sherlock said and sighed. The sounds of the creatures outside of the cabin had grown louder and he could hear small thumps and bumps all coming from one direction and wondered if it was from the people in the cage. "That would be the height of your intelligence."

"Nice one," Trevor said.

"You have a good amount of muscle tone," Sherlock said as he focused on Trevor. "You use your appearance and that jacket to lure young women like Jamie here into your traps. The jacket was yours and not borrowed considering the fading of the letters. The food stains that have set in state that you did not care about it before and the way you relax your shoulders shows that you gave in to joining the sport when you had no interest, perhaps your father pushed you into it, ah yes I can see the watercolor stains around your fingernails. You preferred painting to American football and if these paintings that are hanging up are yours then it is a shame you were forced to squander your talent on something you hated."

"Dude," Trevor said slowly after he swallowed. "Stop that."

"No," Caleb urged. "Keep on going. This is interesting."

"Ah yes, Caleb," Sherlock said. "You play guitar for the group and were once serious about becoming a professional. You were once part of a band."

"Tell me how you know," Caleb said enthusiastically

"The small calluses on the tips of your fingers betrayed your devotion to your talent. Your black nail polish and bleached roots show that you also want to have an image for fans. Your eyes tell me that you have regret and considering your home made t-shirt for a band I have never heard of it tells me you were part of an aspiring rock band."

"That was pretty cool," Caleb said.

"I see you have some small calluses yourself on your fingers," Monica said as she studied Sherlock's hand. "And there is a small one on your neck." She paused and pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow for a few seconds. "Do you play violin?"

"You are actually trying to learn," Sherlock said with a smile. "Yes I do." He felt hungry, but not for food and the hunger alarmed him. He had to keep going. "Charlotte you were one of the original vampires that started the nest. The leather jacket once belong to someone else. Was it the vampire that turned you?"

"Shut your God Damn mouth," Charlotte said.

"You in the back with the bright red hair," Sherlock said as his focus fell on Trisha. "Y-" He paused when he heard the sound of a window shattering.

"What the hell?" J.T. asked. "What the hell was that?"

"Why don't you check it out?" Charlotte said.

"Have you ever watched any horror movies?" J.T. asked. "The person who goes and checks the sound gets killed first."

"You aint human, stupid," Charlotte reminded him. "We're the monsters people are afraid of, remember?"

"There might be a bear out there," J.T. said. His voice was wavering. "Immortal or not I bet it's gonna hurt like a son of a bitch to get mauled by a bear." He held up a finger. "Plus I heard Grizzley's can rip the heads off people."

"There are no bears in Nebraska."

"There used to be," a woman who hung mostly in the back said. She had medium length blond hair with green streaks dyed in.

"Well there are not here now," Charlotte said.

"There are badgers out there," J.T. argued. "And they can get mean."

"Stop being a pussy and get out there." Charlotte pointed. "Ashley go with him."

"Fine," J.T. gulped and walked out of the room with the girl with green hair streaks. She leaned against a wall and let out a sigh of frustration.

"Where was I?" Sherlock asked. The room appeared to have been lit up with several lights and he could hear people running and talking out of the room. His hunger was still growing. It was still at a point where he could easily ignore it. "Right the young lady with red hair. The hair color is as fake as your nails. You also wear a lot of makeup. You are trying to hide your real self-

"Would someone just gag him already?" Trevor asked.

"Gladly," Charlotte said. "Pete, get the gag." She pointed to the only other person in the room had yet said anything. Pete had long brown hair and he was listening to his Ipod. "Pete!"

"Dude," Trish said as she pulled the earbuds out of his ear. "Listen to us and not your crap."

"Hey," Pete said as he swiped her hand away. "This is the classics. This is The Who."

"Pete, shut up," Trevor said. "We need you to gag the new g-"

The glass to the one window in the room shattered as the decapitated head of J.T was thrown through. The head rolled on the ground until it landed at Charlotte's foot.

The room exploded in a cacophony of everyone talking at once and Jamie screaming. Charlotte was barking orders and arguing with both Monica and Caleb on who should do what. Trisha was yelling at Jamie to shut up and Pete and Trevor were swearing up a storm.

Hector was the only one to remain quiet as he looked out the window.

"He's going to regret that," Sherlock said sofly. He was right. A few seconds had passed when the sound of a melon being sliced in half was heard and Hector's body slumped to the ground headless. "I really do enjoy being right."

"Holy shit, Hector," Trisha screamed a second before the room grew loud once again.

"Everybody shut up," Charlotte screamed. Once the room grew quiet she marched straight up to Sherlock and glared into his eyes. "How many Hunters are you working with?"

"Why do you assume that I'm working with other Hunters?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"I've dealt with your kind," Charlotte said. "You were taken down almost too easily. That means you haven't been hunting long. You have a partner or a group that you hunt with." She looked back at the group. "See I can do it too."

"I might hunt alone and this could be a Hunter or Hunters who are unaware that I was on the case," Sherlock said. He made his voice tremble. "I have as much to fear as you do."

"Shit he's scared," Caleb said. "Maybe he's telling the truth."

"Truth or not we have to take this Hunter or Hunters down," Charlotte said. "These two will be fine by themselves."

"I'll stay with them," Monica said as she placed herself in front of Sherlock and Jamie. "Someone has to protect them."

"Maybe I should protect them," Trevor said. "I turned the girl."

"Her name is Jamie," Sherlock said in disgust. "Did you even bother to get to know her? At least Monica tried to talk with me."

Trevor," Caleb called out to him.

Trevor opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he saw the way Caleb and Charlotte were glaring at him and walked after them.

"Don't worry, baby," Monica said as she sat in Sherlock's lap. "It's going to be over soon." She was actually concerned for him.

"Not afraid for myself," Sherlock said as he nodded towards Jamie.

"I'm hungry," Jamie said.

"We'll get you both someone to eat soon," Monica said before she focused her attention back on Sherlock. "I won't let them hurt you." She stroked his face.

Sherlock closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds outside. There were people running all over the place, their shoes drumming against the ground. He could hear people striking against the walls. There were screams, shouts and swears and he could hear the sounds of head's striking the ground. It lasted ten minutes before everything grew silent.

"See?" Monica said as she placed her finger against his lower lip. "It's all over."

"It is," Sherlock said as he stared past her shoulders at the entrance where a sweaty and bleeding Sam stood. Sam's eyes glowed again for a second. Sherlock blinked once before he stared back into Monica's eyes. "It's over for you."

"Me?" Monica asked and turned around as Sam was charging toward her. She ducked at the last second and leaped to the other side of the room.

While still panting, Sam used the sword to slice at the ropes binding Sherlock before he was pounced on by Monica.

Sherlock leaped to his feet and grabbed the discarded sword. With one quick swipe he cut off Monica's head, causing Jamie to scream once again. Sherlock rolled Monica's body off of Sam with his foot.

"Thanks," Sam said between pants.

"Sorry I couldn't help," Sherlock said.

"You were obviously tied up at the moment," Sam said as he stood back up.

"We will need her blood," Sherlock said as he tried to ignore the sound of Sam's heartbeat and his scent. He could smell Sam's blood and it was not helping his growing hunger. "And the blood from the man in the letter jacket."

"Why?"

"Because I am a danger to you right now," Sherlock said and covered his nose.

"Oh crap," Sam said and took a deep breath. "I have the rest of the ingredients in the car."

They both felt it was better if they left Jamie tied up until they were done mixing the cure. Sam had informed Sherlock that the prisoners were freed and those that were healthier were driving the weaker ones to the hospital by using the cars of the dead vampires.

"Blood from the Varsity Blues," Sam said as he mixed in the last ingredient for Jamie's cure.

"And a bit of Monica," Sherlock said as he fought to keep his voice from trembling. He was on the other side of the room from Sam but he still could smell Sam's blood. The sight of Monica's blood along with the scent of the warm an fresh living blood coursing through Sam's veins was enough to—Sherlock froze when he felt his fangs slide down from his gum pockets and over his teeth.

"Sherlock, you okay?" Sam asked.

"No," Sherlock cried out as he covered his mouth and ran out of the room. He opened the doors of several different rooms until he found a bathroom. Once he was inside he removed his hand and studied his new sharp teeth as he stared at his reflection in the mirror and continued to study them until the retracted.

He could hear and smell the human again and the scent was strong.

"Are you okay?" Sam knocked.

"Don't open the door," Sherlock warned as his fangs came out again.

"I have your medicine," Sam said. He slowly opened the door.

Sherlock used every bit of strength to restrain himself and with shaking hands grabbed the jar with the cure. He chugged it down and tried not to gag. It was the vilest thing he had ever tasted

Pain coursed through his body as crumpled to the floor. He threw up what appeared to have been more blood as visions flowed through his head: lunging at Sam, staring at himself in the mirror, running to the bathroom, mixing the cure, killing Monica, watching the other vampires panic, consoling Jamie and finally the kiss that turned him before darkness over took him.

He woke up to the sound of Sam's voice and felt himself being gently nudged awake.

"You okay there?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine," Sherlock said as he blinked. Once again the cabin was dark and he couldn't even here the crickets outside. "I'm fine now. Thank you. We need to finish Jamie's."

"I already gave her the cure," Sam said. "She should be waking up now. We'll take her back home and try to get some sleep ourselves."

"Yes. I have to say that was quiet an experience."

"You almost sound giddy about it."

"That would make quite a blog entry and I will have to make sure John will read it." His giddiness faded as he thought about returning to his friend.


	10. Chapter 9: Guess Who's Back

**Live To Rise**

_Chapter 9: Guess Who's Back?_

_London_

* * *

Dean had called Molly Hooper before he had sat down to breakfast with Cas and Charlie and had agreed to meet later at the morgue of Saint Bart's. Dean and his friends decided to take in the atmosphere and sit at one of the tables outside the café. Once he had finished the last bite of his full breakfast and his last drop of coffee he was ready to go. He didn't have to wait for Charlie who inhaled her meal but Cas took about the same amount of time as a picky toddler.

"Cas," Dean said as he tapped his watch. "Quit pushing it around on your plate and eat it."

"Sorry, Dean," Cas said before he took another bite and sat back. He watched as the people walked by and looked up at the sound of a bird singing on the awning.

"Give him time," Charlie said in an annoyed tone. "He is probably thinking of what to say to his brother." She was still seated in her chair and was playing with a napkin twisting it around and folding it.

"Oh man." Dean ran his hand through his hair. "I know you are having a lot running through your head and I know that most of your family are kind of douche nozzles and several of them tried to jump you already-"

"Dean, you are not helping," Charlie informed him. She had twisted her cloth napkin and shaped it to look like a dragon.

"Sorry." Dean took a deep breath. "I have been through a lot of what you are going through with Sam and with Bobby and sometimes even with you, but you are going to have to go through with it. Sooner we get it done then the better, but first we are going to visit Molly. You barely met her, but she knows about you."

"She does?" Charlie asked as she carefully set her red napkin dragon down on the table.

"Molly Hooper has read the books," Cas explained before he sighed. "Dean is right." He shoved several bites of food in his mouth before he took gulp from his cup. "I'm ready."

"Good," Dean said as he waved over their waiter. "Can we have the check?"

* * *

Molly had agreed to meet them at Saint Bart's Hospital and she would be in the locker room of the pathology department because she had just gotten off work. She was true to her word and was seated on a bench, still wearing her lab coat and running her fingers through her hair.

She opened the door to her locker as Dean had stepped inside and jumped.

"Did we scare you?" Dean asked as Molly took a deep breath with her eyes closed.

"You did give me a bit of a start," Molly said as she spun around. "I open the door and see your reflection in the mirror. I almost thought it was him because of the coat."

"You are the second person to mistake me for him," Dean said. "I'm not in his body and he isn't in mine."

"I think it's the coat," Charlie said. "You both wear the same coat."

"It looks so cool on him," Dean said as he looked down on himself. "I was hoping to have the same effect."

"You did," Molly told him as she hung up her coat. She looked Dean up and down with a smile. "I still should have known it is you." She looked up at the other's and her eyes widened. "Oh I'm sorry that I didn't notice you Castiel and…"

"Charlie Bradbury and you don't know me because I kinda came in well after the books and the new profit isn't a writer and I only helped Dean with a hunt a couple of times before and this is kinda my first time came here to London and-"

"Charlie," Dean said and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm babbling," Charlie said as her face cringed up in embarrassment.

"No it's all right," Molly said as she held up her hands. "I do that all the time." She closed the door behind her. "How is he?"

"Fine and keeping himself busy," Dean said. "He has filled out a bit, getting some abs and looking quite well, kicking ass just like the rest of us."

"He helped Sam kill a nest of vampires," Charlie added and sat down on one of the benches.

"He's hunting vampires?" Molly asked. Her voice was mix of astonishment and appreciation.

"Hunted," Cas spoke. "They finished the hunt."

"Still probably asleep by now," Dean said. He had received the text around five that morning from Sam. There were several messages detailing the hunt. Sherlock even gotten turned for a short while before he drank the cure, earning both admiration and sympathy from Dean.

"Have you talked with John?" Molly asked.

"Not yet," Dean said. "We wanted to check in with you first." He heard Charlie clean her throat. "And you wouldn't mind doing us a solid?"

"Of course not, although I guess that depends on what the favor is I suppose."

"It's for Dean's stupid plan," Charlie said as she held out a sheet of paper that she had folded twice.

"It's not that stupid," Dean protested.

"Oh trust me," Charlie said. "This is one of your dumbest plans ever."

"Not that dumb."

"It isn't one of your wisest plans," Cas said. "And when we talked about it during breakfast you asked if we were ready to do something really stupid."

"Must we dwell in the past?" Dean asked and held up his hands.

"What do you think?" Charlie asked.

"This doesn't look like it is the wisest-"Molly had started.

"See?" Charlie asked and folded her arms across her chest.

"But I have seen riskier and more insane plans from him," Molly said as she continued to read. "And they have all worked."

"Do you think you can find the materials?" Dean asked. "And someone with such a skill? He told me you could help with almost anything."

Molly's lips curled up into a smile. "I have helped one of the greatest geniuses in the world fake his death. I will be able to help."

"Great," Dean said. "I owe you a coffee date later."

"You know you should ask if her she would like a coffee date," Charlie told him.

"Uh yeah," Dean said as he placed his hand against his head. "Molly would you like a coffee date?"

"I would love one," Molly answered. "There is so much to catch up on, depending if you don't get caught."

"Actually getting caught is part of the plan."

* * *

Dean was in an extremely good mood as they rode the cab to Baker Street. The plan was coming together, he spoke with Molly and gotten a date with her. He had paused to wonder if it was a date date or just two friends catching up date. That didn't matter now. He was going to see that sweet Mrs. Hudson again and John Watson, and Watson's new roommate Barachiel. He had to be there for moral support for Cas.

"Are they going to remember you?" Charlie asked as they stepped out of the cab. She was staring at the Speedy's sign.

"I'm pretty sure they will," Dean answered and closed his eyes. "Why would you think they wouldn't remember me?"

"I guess because I never met them before," Charlie said as she shrugged. "I'm kind of nervous about it."

"The only one who should feel that way is Cas," Dean answered. "Being afraid of Mrs. Hudson is like being afraid of Betty White."

"Betty White can be scary," Charlie said. "I bet she can beat up all of our asses."

"Relax," Dean told her. The place was the same as he had last scene it except for the small bouquets left outside on the ground. There were cards stating "I Believe in Sherlock Holmes," and "Moriarty Is Real." They were signed by hundreds of people. There were also a few bluish gray deerstalker hats placed on the ground as part of the memorial.

"Sherlock it is me, Angelo." A large man with a beard and hair tied into a ponytail stared at the memorial. "Time for our monthly visit." He held up a bottle of white wine. "The one you always use one some of your cases. I remember this one and I will always remember and never forget you." He pulled out a small disposable clear plastic glass from a pocket and poured some wine in it. "To Sherlock Holmes, one of the greatest men that had ever lived. I will never stop believing in you." He poured the glass on the corner.

"Please tell me it's not expensive," Charlie said and clasped her hand over her mouth when the man, Angelo looked up at her. "Sorry."

"This wine is not expensive," Angelo said as he held up the bottle. "But Sherlock liked it." He smiled. "He used it in when he was on a few cases when he made people believe he was drunk."

"You have helped him out before?" Dean asked. He didn't mind a little polite conversation and Cas might want to delay seeing his brother by a few more minutes.

"He helped me out," Angelo said. "Proved that I was innocent of a murder charge and he eats at my restaurant for free."

"Good deal," Dean said. "We have worked together on a case. I know his a real genius and he didn't fake any of it. My brother and our friends set up this website-"

"I've been to that website," Angelo said. His eyes lit up and he was grinning. "You have done great work at debunking the myths."

"Charlie did most of the work," Cas said and pointed to her.

"I just did the research," Charlie said with a shrug. "And I designed the website."

"You are a good woman," Angelo said before he turned back to Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you want a good meal then you come by to my place. You will also eat for free."

"Thanks," Dean said as Angelo pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen and wrote down the address for him.

"You come by and see me tonight." Angelo placed the scrap in Dean's hand and turned around to face the memorial. "Goodbye Sherlock. I will see you again in a month."

"Did we just score some free food?" Charlie asked once Angelo was out of earshot.

"It seems like it," Dean said and placed the scrap into his pocket. "I know where we are eating tonight." He turned back to the door to 221B and lifted the brass knocker to announce they were here.

"Just a second," the sweet voice of Mrs. Hudson was heard before the door opened. She looked the same as Dean had last saw her, dyed hair, long sleeve blouse and dressy slacks. Her mouth was fixed in a friendly greeting smile at first before it widened in surprise.

"Dean Winchester," Mrs. Hudson nearly shouted his name before she smiled again. "I did not expect to see you here." She pulled him into a long embrace before she stepped back. "You should of called head, young man. I would have told John and I would have baked you a nice fruit pie."

"We were on an assignment," Dean explained. "It took us here and we thought it would be a nice surprise if we came by for a visit."

"This a nice surprise," Mrs. Hudson said. "We could always use more nice surprised around here." She craned her neck to look past him. "Your friend, Cas is here and who is this lovely young lady?"

"My name is Charlie Bradbury." Charlie's voice wavered as she held out her hand.

"Oh no I'm a hugger," Mrs.s Hudson said as she grabbed Charlie's hand and pulled her closer before she hugged her and once she was done she gave Cas a hug as well.

"Uh thank you?" Cas said.

"You never need to give thanks for a hug," Mrs. Hudson said before leaned in closer to Dean and whispered. "Is she your girlfriend or Cas's?"

"None," Dean answered. "She's just a friend."

"I should have known," Mrs. Hudson said with a smile. "You and Cas are very much into each other. Is she Sam's girlfriend?"

"No," Dean and Charlie shouted at the same time.

"We both like girls," Charlie said.

"All of us like girls," Dean said.

"Oh," Mrs. Hudson said and placed a hand over her mouth. "John was the same about his relationship with Sherlock and now…" She closed her eyes and sighed. "John has moved on. It has been over a year. He found himself a nice young woman, pretty little thing and the two of them are adorable together."

"John did?" Dean asked and waited for Mrs. Hudson to nod. "Good for him. I hope his relationship lasts for a long time. I mean I hope everything works well for him." It was nice to see a friend in a deep and meaning relationship or at least hear about it. Dean's own love life was in the sewer. He hadn't been in a deep relationship since Lisa and Amelia was out of the picture for Sam.

"It would be nice if the two end up married," Mrs. Hudson said as she opened the pantry and pulled out a few containers of dried fruit.

"There is a memorial outside the apartment," Cas said.

"Oh that," Mrs. Hudson sighed. "I wish they still didn't do that. I'm not going to tell them not to because it is beautiful and touching, but I don't want to look at it." She placed her hands over her face.

"I'm sorry," Dean said. He was ready to give her a sympathy hug. "We have the online memorial for Sherlock."

"Oh Dean you are a sweet boy." Mrs. Hudson sobbed into his chest. "I can't still believe I'm crying after all this time. He was a tenant of mine. He would leave severed ears and spleens in my refrigerator, I had to repaint his kitchen, replace the table there and some of the tiles when he kept blowing it up with his chemistry set. You have seen what he did to one of my walls. He always expected me to answer the door for him, do his laundry, cook his meals, and fetch his mail and he never thanked me and I still miss him. I will never stop missing him."

"He was family," Dean told her softly. "You will never stop missing family." He thought of Sam and Sherlock and their last case. He thought of Kevin and Fergus in the bunker. He thought of Bobby, Ellen and Jo. He thought of his parents.

"He wasn't my son."

"Family don't end with blood."

"Those are kind and wise words," Mrs. Hudson said. She wiped away her tears with her fingers and gladly accepted the napkin that Charlie lent her. "Here I am crying my eyes out when I had started on a pie."

"You don't have to bake a pie on my behalf," Dean told her.

"I'm baking a pie for everybody. It will be a while and it will take some time to cool. I should let John know you are here."

"We were going to surprise him," Charlie said.

"Of course," Mrs. Hudson said with a smile. "Don't be too shocked if Barry answers the door. He is John's new flatmate." She didn't notice how Cas had tensed up. "He's a nice young man, a little odd, and works at the library."

"We'll say hi to him too," Dean said.

Dean was the first reach the door to John's apartment. He remembered the brief time he had lived there while inside Sherlock's body and wondered if was still the same. He was going to find out. He knocked on the door.

"Just a minute," John's voice was heard on the other side of the door a few seconds before he opened it. He was still the same as before, a little on the short side, friendly face, eyes that seen many war related horrors. He was dressed the same in jeans and a striped sweater. The only thing that was different was the moustache. His brown eyes widened at the sight of the three of them.

"Hi John," Dean greeted.

"Dean," John gasped his name. "Dean Winchester?"

"Still me," Dean said.

"I was not expecting a visit from you."

"Surprise," Charlie said in a hopeful tone. "I'm Charlie."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie," John said. "Oh what am I doing? Come on in." He stepped back to let them through.

Dean had noticed that Cas had taken a step back as Charlie waked inside. He grabbed the former angel by the hand and pulled him inside with him and give him a reassuring smile.

"It is good to see you again," John said. "And it's good to see you too Cas, especially after what happened to your kind." He turned towards the direction of the kitchen. "Barachiel come here."

"What is it, John?" A soft male voice said before a man stepped out of the kitchen. He had golden hair cut short, had a goatee on his chin and dressed in a black polo with white sleeves and a pair of jeans.

"Barachiel I want you to meet some friends," John said.

"I know of Dean Winchester," Barachiel said. His voice was without emotion. "I also know of you, Tiffany Middleton. We know of how you assisted the Winchesters in destroying the leader of the Leviathans."

"Was that a good impression?" Charlie asked before she glared at Dean, giving him a Do-Not-Call-Me-By-My-Real-Name look.

"We were pleased with your performance," Barachiel said with a smile. The smile faded as he looked over her shoulder. "Castiel?"

"Hello brother," Castiel greeted weakly.

"Hello younger brother," Barachiel said. He held out his arms for a hug.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said as he accepted the angel's embrace.

"I know you are," Barachiel said as he hugged him. "You are very sorry." He pulled back only to punch Cas in the nose.


	11. Chapter 10: All in the Family

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 10: All In the Family_

* * *

Dean cringed at the sound of cartilage breaking in Cas's nose when Barachiel punched him. His first instinct was to attack the angel. It took him a few seconds to study the stance of Barachiel and his expression to know that the angel did not intend to kill his friend. He was just pissed off.

"Barachiel," John shouted in shock. It was the same tone he had used when Dean was in Sherlock's body and had given the middle finger to Anderson.

"Oh crap," Charlie gasped.

"You ignorant little rebel," Barachiel snarled as he grabbed Cas by the collar. "You betrayed us all for _him._"

"I didn't know," Cas said in a pleading voice. "Please, brother."

"Do not say please to me." Barachiel punched Cas twice. The second punch sent the former angel sprawling to the floor.

"That's enough," Dean said as he stood in front of Cas with his arms out. "He made a mistake, a huge mistake but it was a mistake and I think he had paid for it enough."

"The hell he has," Barachiel said. "Look what he had done to us, all of us. Do you know what it had felt like to fall? Do you know what it feels to have your wings burnt off of you? To you humans it feels like having your arms burned off."

"I don't know but I heard it hurts even more when you have your grace ripped out of you," Dean retorted. "Especially if it was stolen from you."

"Castiel had his grace stolen?" Barachiel asked. His anger had softened.

"Metatron screwed you all over. Cas is human now. At least the rest of you have some or your angelic mojo."

"Castiel is human?" John asked. He had grabbed Barachiel by the shoulder.

"Yes," Cas said as he rubbed his face. "He lied to me. He said he wanted to shut the gates to heaven."

"Why?" John asked.

"To keep the angels inside. He wanted us to bet shut off from Earth so we could talk and get our act together, to realize we have been wrong about what God wanted for us."

"My naïve little brother," Barachiel said in a disappointed tone. "You did not think this plan through, just like you didn't consider the consequences of absorbing all the souls of Purgatory. We are the consequences of your actions." He lunged for Cas again.

"No," Dean shouted as he got in between Cas and Barachiel once again and received a punch on the jaw. He struck back and to his horror he hit John under his eye when the doctor also tried to intervene. He punched again and made sure he struck Barachiel on the second time.

"Hey!" Charlie shouted. She was standing on the couch and next to a freshly painted angel banishing sigil. She held up a bleeding hand. "I'll do it. Don't make me do it."

"Who knows where you'll end up," Dean said as he looked into the angry eyes of the angel. "Cas was once blasted to Australia and without your wings it will take a lot longer to get back home. I know you were once one of Michael's little loyalists, but now you have settled and this is your new nesting ground. Mrs. H told me you're a librarian and you are friends with John. Do you want to risk getting thrown who knows where and risk the possibility of losing what you have built here?"

"Please Barachiel," John said as he coaxed his friend away and set him down in a chair, Sherlock's chair. "I think we should all just relax and talk about it." He turned around to face Charlie. "Get away from that. I will not allow anyone to banish anyone in my flat."

"John, Barry, are you all right?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she ran up the stairs and into the apartment. "Goodness what happened to you all?"

"Family issues," Dean said as he sat down on the couch, right under the sigil.

"You are all a sight," Mrs. Hudson said in a worried tone before her eyes widened. "What is that on my wall?"

"A yellow smiley face with bullet holes," Dean answered. He wondered why no one fixed that then realized it was something they had left to remember Sherlock by.

"No not that," Mrs. Hudson said as she pointed at the sigil. "That, what is that?"

"Enochian," Cas answered.

"It's used to send naughty angels back to their rooms," Dean added.

"Well I don't believe it worked." She placed her hands on her hips and stared sternly at everyone.

"I'm so sorry," Charlie said and held up her hands. "I'll wash it out with club soda."

"Your hand. You should have that looked at. You all should have those taken care off. I'll get the supplies and I'll help John."

"Well," John said as he sank into his chair. "This was not how I was hoping this reunion would go." He sighed. The area under his left eye was swollen and growing darker.

"I'm sorry, John," Barachiel said. He drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "I let my anger take control of me."

"I am sorry, brother," Cas said. His right eye was nearly swollen shut and he was bleeding from his nose and had a split upper lip. "What Metatron had told me and the idea sounded like it would be a great idea. I am so weary about the fighting. The cupids were also tired of it from what I heard."

"There were times when I wished the apocalypse had happened," the angel said as he fingered his swollen and bleeding lip. There was also a cut on his cheek.

"Surely you can't mean that," John said.

"After wandering the Earth and searching for answers I am glad it was adverted," Barachiel said. "I have seen the beauty of nature. There are so many different kinds of animals. I have seen works of art and listened to music. There are paintings and sculptures of us, brother. I knew they were inaccurate but I realized they were to honor us and there are songs that praise our father and praise us. I have seen them praying, dancing, and singing and the children playing. I have seen structures built by them, some of them deemed wonders and I have tasted their food and I don't need to eat, but it was delicious. There are so many tastes."

"You realized the planet and its denizens are worth saving and protecting?" Cas asked.

Barachiel sighed heavily. "I understood why. Humans are flawed and imperfect but many learn to be better and to make the world better. Sometimes I think we are no different, especially with John."

"Me?" John asked and pointed at himself.

"You are a soldier with a good heart and a healer."

"We all agree John is awesome," Dean said. He was wondering when Mrs. Hudson would be back when he heard the distinct sound of her footsteps.

"I got everything," Mrs. Hudson said as she entered the building carrying a bowl, a tube of antibiotics and a few boxes of bandages. "I pretty sure I have everything."

"I'm sorry," John said as he stood back up. "I have a few more things in my bathroom."

"Well this should be a good to start with." She set the bowl and bandage boxes down on the table before removed a warm damp cloth from the bowl. "You look like you got the worst of the deal." She gingerly cleansed the wounds on Cas's face. "When I am done here I will get back to making that pie, unless you all are still naughty angels."

"I promise I will behave," Barachiel said.

"I'll be good," Dean said.

"Me too," Cas and Charlie said at the same time.

"That is more like it," Mrs. Hudson finished cleaning the blood on Cas's face. "I should get an ice pack for that shiner."

"I already have three," John said as he came back into the room with three plastic bags filled with ice, some gauze and medical tape. "Here you go, Dean." He handed Dean one of the bags and another to Mrs. Hudson. He set the third bag down on the coffee table. "Charlie let me see your hand."

"Am I going to need stitches?" Charlie asked as she held out her hand.

"Let me take a look," John said as he grabbed another cloth from the bowl. He cleaned her wounded palm.

"Dean, this isn't going to interfere with your plan?" Cas asked and Mrs. Hudson treated Cas's lip with a bit of medicine before placing a butterfly bandage on it.

"I don't think it will," Dean said as he caught the eye of the angel. "It depends on a little convincing on my half."

"Might take a lot," Charlie said. "It is pretty crazy and it's also pretty dumb."

"No need for stitches," John said as treated her palm with medicine. "Not deep enough. What did you use to cut your hand?"

"I used my pocket knife," Charlie explained.

"This plan you are talking about," Mrs. Hudson started. "Does this have anything to do with the work you and your brother do?"

"Pretty much," Dean lied. He hated the fact that he was keeping a big secret from them.

"I can tell it is a secret." The older woman handed Cas a dry cloth. "Now you hold that against your nose and tilt your head back. The bleeding will stop. I'm sorry, Barry. I'll be over there to treat you in a few seconds."

"You don't have to do that, Mrs. Hudson," Barry said. He had a small bandage over the cut on his cheek. "John had already started."

"Stop talking and hold still," John ordered. "Doctor's orders."

"I'll go back to making that pie," Mrs. Hudson said and turned to Charlie. "I don't know what kind of crazy games you are you are into, young lady, but I do not want to see any more of it on my walls."

"I'm sorry," Charlie said as she held up her hand that was wrapped in gauze. "I promise it won't happen again."

"I'll bring up a bottle of club soda for you to use," Mrs. Hudson said as she gathered up her materials and left.

"Can you tell me what you crazy plan is?" John asked as soon as she had left.

"Of course," Dean said with a smile. "I'm going to need your help."

* * *

"You were right, Charlie, it is a crazy plan," John said once Dean was finished explaining it. "Consulting Detective level of crazy."

"Do you think it is doable then?" Dean asked.

"I believe you can try and if Sherlock could pull of something in that fashion then I know you can. I just don't think I fit the mold. Are you certain the mole is there?"

"Positive," Dean said. "Got the lead from Molly and Charlie tracked the guy down and he is still there, just waiting to shoot our friend, Greg."

"Still trying to find the ones aiming for you and Mrs. Hudson," Cas said.

"I won't let anything happen to them," Barachiel said.

"This is quite a lot of information to digest," John said as he rubbed his head. "I knew he was forced." He took a deep breath and sighed. "He did it for us."

"And we won't let him die in disgrace," Dean said, trying to hide the guilt he had felt. He wanted to tell John that Sherlock was alive, but he couldn't say anything until Moriarty's network is taken down. "Now back to the plan."

"We were thinking of Barry here as our third," Charlie said. "Although I didn't know if he would have fit the mold either or if his vessel would fit I mean."

"Or if he would be willing to do it," Dean added. He had no idea if the angel would play along. Granted it would just take two people but it would be better if they had three. He stared into the eyes of the angel, wondering if he could read them, but came up with nothing.

"This would be like a gift for you, John?" Barry asked.

"It would be a gift if we can expose the bastard that forced Sherlock to jump. I'd be willing to help out more if I could," John said.

"I will help," Barry said. "Not just for John, but to right a great wrong."

"Now I want to know where you are going to get the materials."

"Molly is going to take care of that for us," Dean answered. "She said she also knows a few people that can help and will provide a place to get it done."

"The only problem might be your faces," Charlie said. "You guys aren't looking real pretty."

"We are going to try and take care of it tomorrow," Dean said.

"Barachiel can you heal them?" John asked.

"I will try," Barachiel said as he stood up.

"Not right now," Dean said. "We'll stop by here after breakfast, get the healing and then head over to the studio. As long as everyone is okay with the idea."

"I am," John said. "We'll I'm not what you would say okay with the idea, but I do not have any complaints."

"Neither do I," Barachiel said.

"Or I," Cas added.

"I have complaints," Charlie said. "But I already voiced them and no one wants to hear any of them anymore."

"How often have you said that?" Dean asked. "And how often have you come through and we succeeded."

"I'm still not a fan of your methods," Charlie said.

"So you say, Tiffany."

"No," Charlie snapped and shook her head. "Tiffanies are pretty rich popular girls who join the cheerleading squad. That is so not me."

"Or they sing pop songs at the mall," Dean told her.

"I don't sing at malls and I am not a cheerleader." She crossed her arms and glare at him.

"I believe it would be best if we never call her that again," John said.

There was knocking at the door before Mrs. Hudson came back inside with a bottle of club soda, a few sponges and what looked like a bottle of multipurpose household cleaner.

"I just put the pie in the oven," the older woman said. "When it's done I expect to see that wall clean." She paused on her way out. "But leave the face."

"Better get to work," Charlie said as she picked up the bottle.

"I'll give you a hand," Dean told her. No one noticed he had his phone or the fact that he had taken a picture. "Let me send this text to Sam telling him we are okay."

* * *

_Wayne, Nebraska_

The sunlight had barely peeked through the window of their hotel room. Sherlock had been awake for a few minutes but didn't move. Sam needed his extra few minutes before he got up, did his pushups and showered. Those few extra minutes would be enough time for him to deal with the erection he woke up with. It was no wonder after that dream he had of Molly. He put the dream in the section of his mind marked delete.

That was one nuisance that Sherlock realized he had gained since he had switched bodies with Dean. Ever since his first case he swore to himself to be celibate. He would not focus on his primitive urges and force them from him his mind and body while he focused on the various cases, but now it had become much more difficult to not think of satisfying his desire and the urges had begun when he first went into hiding with Molly. It had taken him months to realize there was another side effect from the spell used to put himself and Dean back into their bodies and he had acquired Dean's libido.

He didn't want to think about that right now. Sherlock reflected on the night before and his brief vampirism. The experience had frightened him and also fascinated him. Seeing himself with the teeth in the mirror satisfied a curiosity had didn't know he had.

The phone next to Sam lit up as a text came through, waking him from his slumber.

"Morning," Sherlock greeted.

"Morning," Sam groaned. "Who is sending me a message at this hour?" He reached out and missed his phone twice before he grabbed it. "Dean."

"I am not surprised."

"Uh," Sam yawned as he sat up and turned on the light. "Really Dean? I guess it's a nice little gesture if it's meant for you."

"What is it?" Sherlock asked as he also sat up.

"Text message and a picture of John," Sam answered and held up the camera.

Sherlock squinted as he studied the picture. John had a developing black eye and wondered who he got into a fight with this time but what was more interesting was the ridiculous mustache he was sporting.

"Oh god, no, John." Sherlock said and shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked and stared at the picture again. "Aside from the injury."

"That thing on his face," Sherlock answered. "I have no idea why he thought it was a good idea. I know. It's because I'm not there to tell him otherwise."

"It's not too bad," Sam said. "I'll let Dean know that we appreciate it." He typed in a message.

"I am going to go shower while you do your morning exercise," Sherlock said. "I believe we should both be quick about it. We still have a long drive."


	12. Will the Real Please Stand Up?

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 11: Will the Real Please Stand Up_

* * *

_London: 4: 52 PM_

Dean leaned back against the bars in the holding cell while ignoring the itching sensation on his scalp, and on his nose, cheeks and chin. He wondered if he should try and pull the latex off his face but decided he should leave it on, at least until Lestrade or Donovan came by to speak with them.

"This is what we wanted?" Barachiel asked. He just stood in the middle of the cell. He was the only one who had copied the voice. It was almost like looking at the real Sherlock Holmes the disguise fit him so well.

"Yes and no," Cas told him as he cast Dean an "I told you so," Look. He seemed uncomfortable in his disguise, even with the latex, the wig, the makeup, and contacts he just looked like an impersonator and not the real detective.

"Then what was the purpose of all of this?" The angel asked as he raised his arms.

"I'm still not quite certain," Cas answered.

"Yep," Dean said as walked to the other side. He tapped at the bars with his hand clad in a black leather glove. "That went just as well as I expected."

* * *

_Five and Half Hours Ago_

"Just to be clear you are not going to slice my face off?" Dean asked as he sat down in the barber's chair. His eyes were on the various make up cases, brushes, foam heads that were topped in wigs of various hairstyles and colors and an odd assortment of tools.

"We could give you a new face," the woman tying the makeup bib on him and said in cold tone. "If you wanted it that."

"I love my real face," Dean said as he pressed against his cheeks with both index fingers and smiles. "I just want to look like someone else."

"Someone dead," the same woman said. She had pale blond hair pulled into a bun and light blue eyes. She remained without expression.

"I still think this is ridiculous," John said from where he stood a few feet away along with Molly and Charlie. "Are you sure there isn't a little bit of Sherlock left inside you?"

"Oh no," Charlie said with a laugh. "This is a pure Dean Winchester plan of what-the-hell- was-I-thinking?"

"Dean has come up with odd plans before," Cas said from his chair next to Dean's. "They have worked."

"You see guys," Dean said while ice woman grabbed his chin. "You got to have faith in me." He blinked when he felt his head turned towards something that resembled a camera. "What are you doing?"

"Need a few detailed shots of your face first," Icy said as she pressed a few buttons on her keypad. There was barely any flash. "All set." She pressed another button and Dean's face appeared on the screen.

"I think that will make a great desktop wallpaper," Dean said. He noticed the way Charlie rolled her eyes and John smirked.

"You are not the first person we worked on who thought highly of himself," Icy said as a blue grid formed across Dean's picture on the screen. "You are also not the only one to make certain that opinion was false."

Dean glared at her as she typed a little more and another picture appeared on the screen. The image was of Sherlock Holmes and a similar grid appeared on his face.

"So how did you get a picture of him?" Charlie asked.

"I have a bit of my own sources," Molly said as she ran her hand through her hair. "I'm not comfortable revealing what they are."

"Everything is printing," Icy said. "Erica, when it is done I want you to get the print-out and use the images and the guide to construct three latex noses."

"Yes ma'am," one of the other make up ladies said as she walked out of the room.

"Latex?" Dean asked. He wasn't expecting that.

"I thought it was just makeup and wigs," John said before he turned to Molly. "How were you able to get into contact with these people?"

"Imogen here happens to share a flat with Karen, a nurse at St. Bart's and a good friend," Molly said. "The others happen to know Sherlock, I mean knew him." She brought her hand to her face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," John said as he placed an arm around her shoulders. "There are times when I refuse to believe he is dead."

"I am going to give you this warning now," Imogen said. "If you have to visit the loo now is the time to do."

"I'm drained," Dean said. "Cas, Barry?"

"I have already used the facilities before I entered the room," Cas said.

"And I don't need to use it," Barachiel added. He was seated on Cas's left.

"Very well then," Imogen said as grabbed something that looked like a hair net. "We shall begin."

Dean usually didn't mind when a beautiful woman had her hands all over him and was stroking him, but Imogen's fingers moved to fast to be enjoyable and a bit too rough. She squeezed his hair as she placed on the hair net and did something to make it press tight against his scalp. She followed with using spirit gum at his temples and along the hairline.

"Don't get any of your gunk in my hair," Dean said and almost wished he hadn't said it when he heard Charlie laughing. "Stop laughing, Charlie."

"Sorry," Charlie giggled before she coughed and cleared her throat.

"Try not to talk," Imogen said. "I know it will be hard for someone like you, but at least make the attempt."

Dean kept his mouth shut while she affixed a wig of short dark curls to his head. He kept his face as emotionless as possible while she put on something on his eyebrows before she added more spirit gum and fake dark eye brows.

"Next is the latex," Imogen explained.

"Are they done?" Dean asked.

"Not those but I can add a little to shape your chin and amplify your cheekbones." She applied soft and cool material to Dean's cheeks and used some of the tools to shape them before she had added the chin. The special ones were still not done.

"Do we just wait?" Cas asked.

"Contacts," Imogen said without addressing Cas's concern. "Now look as far up as you can, try to roll your eyes back."

"Easy," Dean said as he stared up towards his new false eyebrows and tried to stare into the back of his skull. He felt something come in contact with his left eye and he blinked as a tear rolled out of his left eye.

"Look up again," Imogen ordered.

Dean did the same and she applied the other contact in with the same effect.

They had to wait for only a few more minutes before Erica returned and set each prosthetic down on each table.

"I tried to make it as accurate as possible," Erica said as she placed on the table next to Cas's chair. "It would have been better if we had a mold done."

"That would be impossible," Molly told her.

"These will be perfect," Imogen said before she applied some spirit gum onto Dean's nose from the top to the bottom and the sides and she placed the fake nose covering over it. She used more tools to smooth it against Dean's skin before she picked up a pallet of different colors and a few paint brushes.

"Gotta make sure I look undead huh," Dean joked.

"Really, Dean?" John snapped.

"Dude that was not cool," Charlie added.

"Sorry," Dean said weakly. He closed his eyes while he felt various brush strokes across his face. He could smell nothing but the powders and creams used. He didn't sneeze or even complain even despite the fact his butt felt numb.

"And we are done," Imogen said once the brushes had stopped moving across his face after what felt like hours.

"Can I see?" Dean asked. "Hand mirror?"

"Here you go," Imogen said as she handed Dean a tortoise shell hand mirror.

Dean stared at his reflection and blinked at first. It was almost as if had switched bodies with Sherlock again. The shape of his eyes and his grin were the only signs he was himself.

"Wait till they get a load of me," Dean said while trying to us his best Nicholson voice.

"Ten pounds pay up," Charlie said and held her hand in front of John.

"You made a bet on if I would do that?" Dean asked as John fished out his wallet.

"John said that it would be too obvious," Charlie said as the money was placed on her palm. "But I knew you would say it, because I would have said it."

"What are they talking about?" Barachiel asked. Dean had to do a double take at the site of him. He looked exactly like Sherlock.

"I am not sure," Cas said. His disguise was about as good as Dean's. "I believe Dean is quoting a character from a movie."

"The Joker from the Batman movie," Molly said.

"I don't remember him saying that," Cas said. "He asked if anyone would want to see a magic trick."

"There are more than one Batman movie series," Dean explained. "You've only seen the Nolan version." He turned back to Imogen. "You do great work."

"It is what I pride myself on," Imogen said and for the first time she smiled.

"Now what are we going to do with this eerie display?" John asked.

"We are going to make a visit," Dean said.

Dean took a deep breath as Molly pulled the car she borrowed from her friend to the curb. He could see the building for the New Scotland Yard. The first part of the plan was complete. The three of them were even dressed the same way, with matching purple shirts, dark slacks, shiny oxfords, coats and scarves. Now it was time to enact the second part of the plan.

"This is not a wise decision," Barachiel said as Molly turned off the engine.

"That is what is known as an understatement," Cas stated.

"Guys I explained to you all in full detail on what we are doing," Dean said. "I go in first. Cas you enter fifteen minutes later and then Barry, fifteen minutes after that. Molly, are you going to be okay with this?"

"I sure hope you know what you are doing," Molly said. She was anxious and kept looking out the window.

"I owe you a lot more than a coffee date," Dean told her. He sent Charlie a text message saying the game was in play.

YOUR MOVE was what she texted back.

"It's show time." He took a deep breath and left the car. He walked as fast as he could down the street and didn't notice anyone else. He braced himself as he stepped inside the building.

The receptionist screamed and several officers dropped what they were carrying. They all stared at him with eyes wide and jaws open.

"No don't do that," Dean said as he tried his hardest to mimic Sherlock's voice and accent. "Now you are showing the world that you truly are idiots by looking like one."

"Y-y-you you are dead," one of the officers said as he pointed at him with a shaking arm.

"You are obviously one of those who believes everything they read," Dean said before he turned away from him. "I have no need for you." He continued his way towards the office that used to belong to Lestrade and only paused when he heard a gasp. He turned to see Anderson.

"Can't be," Anderson said.

"I thought you would be more disappointed than frightened," Dean said as he walked right up to him. "Boo."

"Get out of here," Donovan snarled at him and Dean turned in time to get a face full of salt.

"Someone has been paying attention in school," Dean said as he carefully wiped away the salt grains. He didn't want to remove his face, not just yet, not after all the work that Imogen had put into the disguise.

"You're not dead," Donovan said as she widened her eyes.

"Of course not," Dean said as he studied the surrounding area. "Being dead is boring." He found the desk where the assassin would have the vantage shot, but that was when Greg was a DI.

"And you are not Sherlock Holmes," Donovan said in relief before her eyes narrowed in anger. "Who the hell are you?"

"What is going on?" Greg Lestrade ran up to them. He paused when he saw Dean before he walked up and gave him a second and closer examination. "I know you."

"Hi Greg," Dean said as he dropped both the voice and accent.

"Dean?" Greg asked as he had his hands on his hips. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"I want to test out my new Halloween costume," Dean said as he struck a pose. "You like?" He glanced around the area and noticed a smaller office that had Greg's name on it. He noticed another officer seated not far from Greg who was the only one still seated while everyone was standing and he was hunched over.

"It's nice that you walked in here," Donovan said as she grabbed Dean by the arm. "I have been thinking of cuffing you for a while."

"You know I'm always up for a woman who wants to slap on the cuffs," Dean said as he wrenched away. "But I have to decline." He ran over to the hunched officer and tackled him. He felt the officer try to wrench himself away, only for Dean to practically sit on him.

"Dean Winchester," Greg shouted.

"Get off him," Donovan said.

"Maybe you should see what he was trying to hide," Dean said as nudge the weapon with his foot. "Nice rifle he has right? He can take it apart and reassemble it like without any difficulty. He also has a silencer. I'm not sure how different things are here but back on my side of the pond the police don't carry these."

"What the hell," Donovan asked. "Calhoun, explain yourself."

"I will not say anything," Calhoun said.

"You will talk," Greg said as he assisted Dean in holding his wrists behind his back and cuffing him.

"This man had a hit on you, Greg," Dean said. "He was kinda like a sleeper agent in that he just had to wait for the signal. Moriarty wanted to make sure Sherlock was dead and if he wasn't then-"

"He would have shot me," Greg said slowly. "That is why he wanted to move when I was demoted." He said as he looked up at Donovan.

"But it was all a lie," Donovan said. Her voice was wavering and she did not have the determined look in her eyes as before.

"You keep saying that," Dean started. "But now even you don't believe it. Greg if Sherlock hadn't jumped then you would have been killed, along with John Watson and Mrs. Hudson."

"My lord," Greg said. He closed his eyes and placed a hand on his chest.

"What are you all doing standing around?" Donovan asked. "Take him to a cell." Several officers grabbed Calhoun and hauled him away. "And him." She pointed at Dean.

"Seriously?" Dean asked.

"For previous charges," Donovan said as she forced Dean to lean against the desk. "And for your little performance."

"Oh god another one," Anderson shouted.

"I am a consulting detective," Cas said as he walked up to them. "And you are all morons."

"Wow, Cas," Dean said and shook his head. "I get points for doing it better?"

"I'll give you that," Donovan said as she led Dean down a different hallway. "Lestrade bring in the other one."

Dean smiled as he was lead through, catching the eye of a young officer with blond hair and carrying a laptop that only raised her eyebrows at him.

"I am not going to put you in the same cell as filth you apprehended," Donovan said as another officer opened one of the cells. "You can at least appreciate that little favor." She shoved him in. "You won't be lonely."

It was only a few minutes before Cas was shoved in the cell and ten minutes later Barachiel joined them.

"Hey," Dean greeted them before he leaned against the bars.


	13. Chapter 12: The A Minus Team

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 12: The A Minus Team_

* * *

_London, England_

Dean checked his watch for what felt like the tenth time since he was put into the holding cell along with Cas and Barry. He was hoping someone, most likely Greg Lestrade, would come down to talk with them. He also hoped that John and Molly would convince the officers to allow them to visit. He knew Charlie wouldn't drop by, since she was too busy with her assignment. He also wanted to know how long it was going to take Garth to fax in the forms stating that he wanted Agent Kiedas and Hagar performing their little stunt as part of the FBI's plan to prove Moriarty was real, Sherlock was not a criminal and to apprehend the mole.

"Dean, I'm thirsty," Cas said as he sat down in one corner of the cell.

"I can't help you with that," Dean said. Sometimes the former angel was like a child. He was just glad that Cas didn't have to use the bathroom right then and there.

"How does it feel having these urges?" Barry asked.

"Annoying at times," Cas answered. "It was interesting at first to feel those needs. I have even felt the need to satisfy my lust."

"You have slept with women?" Barry asked. "Or do you tastes run along the male sex?"

"Uh guys?" Dean stared at them. He really didn't like the direction this discussion was heading. A part of him hoped that someone would come along right now and another part of him didn't want anyone to walk in on what they were saying.

"Women," Cas answered. "I've slept with women and I have slept with both the nice girls and those that are more frisky and wild as Dean would call them. When I feel the need to satisfy my lust and there are no women I try to ignore it. I have taken up masturbation when I can't ignore it."

"Okay that is enough," Dean said as he did the time out gesture with his hands. "Cas, private conversations are held between two people and this falls under the private category." He leaned against the bars again.

"We have company approaching," Barachiel said.

"Oh finally," Dean said and turned around to face whoever it was that was heading their way. He smiled at the site of Greg Lestrade and Sally Donovan. "Do I get my phone call now?"

"Not at this moment," Greg said as he gave Dean a glance over. "Could you do something about that?"

"Please," Donovan added. "Having to look at one for five years was enough. I don't think I can handle three of you, especially with him." She pointed at the angel. "How was he able to mimic his voice?"

"Practice," Barry answered as he reached for his wig.

"Can we wait?" Dean asked as he held up his hand. "I was hoping for a photo op and trust me I do want to remove this. The adhesive itches like hell."

"I do want to thank you," Greg said. "We had no idea we had a mole."

"A mole working for a dead man who was working for another dead man," Donovan added.

"How does that work out?" Dean asked. "Cause I really want to know why someone would go through all that trouble to threaten to shoot people that he was close too, people that he cared about unless he offed himself."

"Dean," Greg said and held up his hand.

"I just want to follow this train of thought of yours," Dean said as he continued to glare at Donovan whose temper was slowly boiling with every word out of Dean's mouth. "Because even you have to admit that is ridiculous, but you hate the guy. You hate him so much and only out of jealousy and it has blinded you to the freaking truth."

"Dean, stop it right now," Cas said as he grabbed him from the shoulder.

"The dead man is named Aiden Crown," Donovan said through clenched teeth. "He was employed by Moriarty to hire several hit men. One of them is of course Calhoun. He was a real cop but a crooked one, asked Moriarty to help clean his record and help him rise in the ranks. His assassin mode for Lestrade was payment." She pursed her lips as she glared at him.

"Managed to squeeze that bit of information out of him," Greg explained. "Of course when we found Crown he already has been taken out."

"Another dead end," Dean groaned before he looked at Donovan. "And I am so sorry I was being a grade A dick bag a few minutes ago. I was a little worked up."

"A little?" Greg asked.

"You were livid," Barry said.

"Okay so I was steaming," Dean said.

"Why are you so protective of him?" Donovan asked. "You barely know him." She did not see the way that Greg had looked away.

"Because I was there when you called him a freak at the morgue in St Bart's when you got called in to check out the guy who had his chest torn out. I was at the museum where he embarrassed Anderson and I was the one yelling at everyone to get the hell out because there was a werewolf that was about to rise before I plugged him with two silver bullets."

"What are you talking about?" Donovan asked.

"You are actually bringing that up?" Greg asked.

"What is he talking about?" Donovan turned to him. "And what are you not telling me?"

"There was a time when Sherlock and Dean had been in each other's bodies," Cas answered.

"Now magical body swaps are real? Or was it something else besides magic?"

"It was magic based," Dean told her.

"Wait," Donovan said before she spun back to face Dean. "That was you?"

"It was and because of being in his shoes I knew what he was like inside." Dean pointed at his head. "The way I was able to see things, analyze everything and it just poured out. It was amazing. There was no way that was all phony and there was no way he could have kidnapped those kids. He was set up" He pointed at himself, Cas and Barry. "And as you can see with the right amount of makeup, the right wigs and the right clothes anyone could make themselves look like him just to set him up. That is why the kidnapped girl screamed when she saw Sherlock."

"You didn't have to have all three of you to dress up to prove that to me," Greg said before he glanced over at Donovan. "But I guess they did to convince you?"

"I have to think about it," Donovan said. "I have to think about a lot of things with all this new evidence and these facts about ghosts and magic. I am glad you're back in your own body, Mr. Winchester."

"Yeah me too," Dean said. "Now is there a way you can let us off for good behavior?"

"It won't be that simple I'm afraid," Greg said. "Even though bail has been paid we still need to question you." He pointed at Cas. "You and he will take longer than the other. I'm sorry, what is your name again?"

"Barry Chells," Barachiel answered. "I am John Watson's flat mate and I work at the library. I like to read and listen to jazz. I enjoy watching Top Gear."

"We only have a few questions for you," Greg told him. "And you will be on our records."

"No problem," Dean said. "I await the questioning, but first can you let me know if Dumb and Dumber and co are on their way back to the states?"

"Saw them off myself," Lestrade said.

"Now that settled ask away."

* * *

"Well that was tedious," Dean grumbled as he and Cas headed to the front desk where both Molly and John were waiting for them. Barry was already with them. Greg tried to make the process go as fast as possible but he still had a lot of questions to ask. The last question was how they convinced Barry to join them.

* * *

"He's the type to help a friend of a friend," Dean explained while he and Lestrade were alone in the interrogation room. "And he's Cas's brother."

"You mean he is also an angel?" Greg asked. "I didn't expect one of them to share a flat with John."

"Hard for them to get around without their wings," Dean said.

"I have no idea how I could assist, but if you need my help in anyway please call me and not show up dressed as Sherlock or Jack the Ripper or even Barney Hardwood"

"I have no idea who that last person is, but I promise to call you or send you a text. There should be papers saying our Assistant Director constructed this plan to prove that Holmes was set up and to find the mole."

"Once those forms come in I'll have everyone notified," Greg told him.

* * *

"Dean," Cas's voice brought him back to the present. They had left the building and been walking along the sidewalk for several minutes. They have even passed a few blocks.

"I know," Dean said. He smiled at John and Molly. "Thanks."

"Please let me know what you are doing next," John said. "Before you cost me more money."

"Sorry," Dean said.

"What is the next plan?" Molly asked as the five of them walked along the cement and passed by another building.

"I hope it's to get something to eat," Cas said as he pat his stomach. "I'm hungry."

"That does sound like a good idea," John told him. "Shouldn't we wait for Charlie?"

"Don't have to wait for her," Dean said. "Not for long anyway." He noticed the way the others were looking at him. "I have a feeling she has been with us the whole time." Dean nodded and turned around. He noticed one of the female officers was following close behind. It was the same one with the lap top he had made eye contact with earlier. She was following them for several blocks.

"I still don't know what you mean," John told him.

He watched as she handed the laptop to Cas before she ducked into the alley. She removed her coat and reversed it, the other side resembling a bright red pea coat before she buttoned it up again. She removed the wig and sunglasses, revealing a smiling Charlie.

"Thanks for the props," Charlie said as she handed both the wig and shades to Molly.

"You're welcome," Molly said as she slipped them back into the bag she was carrying. "Did you get what you were looking for?"

"Managed to hack into the system," Charlie said in a proud tone. "Found footage of that mole then rigged it to loop on their security cameras for…well until they figure it out how to make it stop, but I didn't make it too difficult for them."

"Was that all you were doing?" John asked in surprise.

"Also got this," Charlie said as she pulled a hard drive out from her pocket. "I snuck into evidence and yanked it out of the computer that Calhoun was using."

"Perhaps we can sneak into Aiden Crown's home and steal his as well," Cas suggested.

"That is the plan," Dean said. "But first." He linked his arms with both Cas and Barry and pulled them close. "Everybody smile for the camera."

"I have the camera," Charlie said as she held up her phone. "Everybody say Bored Now."

"Bored now," Dean and Cas said before the picture was taken.

"He never said bored now," Molly pointed out.

"Sorry I was thinking of vampire Willow on Buffy," Charlie said as she put her phone away. "So uh who's hungry?"

"The six of us can have dinner together, right?" John asked. "You are not due in for a shift tonight, Molly?"

"I'm not due in until tomorrow evening," Molly said.

"Maybe we can try Angelo's place," Cas said. "We can eat for free."

"That sounds perfect," John said.

"I really don't eat," Barry said softly.

"I have seen you eat before," John told him. "And the only thing I've seen you eat is jelly. You make bowl after bowl of the stuff."

"Jelly and no bread?" Cas asked.

"It's what American's call Jell-O," John explained.

"I believe there is always room for Jell-O," Dean said. "But you should have room for a little more than that." His mouth was watering for pasta and he hoped he could try an Italian beer. "First things first." He grabbed at the wig and tried to remove it. The damn thing was on tight.

"Hey genius you need a special remover for that," Charlie said. "Hello not a con-virgin here. I've used the stuff to put on elf ears and Klingon foreheads."

"We should head back to my flat," John suggested. "Try to sneak past Mrs. Hudson and remove the disguises there. Then we'll go out and eat."

"Good idea," Dean agreed. They were an interesting team. A librarian with a halo, a former angelic cheeseburger addict, a gal who hangs out with the dead for the living, a high school dropout who could hack into the pentagon if she tried, a healer warrior with serious whisker power and him the self-appointed leader and temporary consulting detective. There was nothing they couldn't do.

* * *

_Sioux Falls, North Dakota_

Sherlock drummed his fingers against the table of the booth he and Sam were seated at. Sam's friend, a Sheriff by the name of Jody Mills, had agreed to meet them at the Biggersons for dinner or lunch as they called it in America.

"Let me guess," Sam said as he looked above his laptop at him. He took upon the restaurant's offer of free Wi-Fi. "You are bored."

"That is not the word I would have used," Sherlock answered as stared into the eyes of the younger man. Sam was hiding a secret from him, not just him but from everyone.

"Then what would it have been? Dull?"

"That is not the word either. I am concerned."

"I thought you don't get concerned unless it is one of those things you lie about yourself and too yourself."

"It concerns an ongoing issue with you. When you saved me at the vampire nest you were able to take on a group of nine vampires by yourself. I was only able to take care of three."

"I've been hunting longer than you," Sam said. "I was just able to outsmart them and you cut off the head of the one that turned you." His eyes widened with mirth. "You have got to see this." He turned his laptop around

"If you think you can easily change the subject then you-"He froze when he saw the image that was sent to Sam's email. It was taken by a camera phone and despite the poor quality he saw three different versions of himself staring back at him. He recovered quickly when he saw the eyes and the smiles of two of them. One was Dean Winchester and the other was Castiel. The third was almost like him save for the thinner upper lip and different shaped eyes. "Oh good Christ! Whose idea was—Dean's. This has to be one of his."

"Yeah they managed to find and apprehend the guy who was hired to shoot Greg Lestrade if you were not dead," Sam explained. "Also the point was that with a good disguise that anyone could pretend to be you. I think they went a little overboard. I'm pretty sure just a little makeup and a wig would have been enough."

"Two of them are making me look like fools," Sherlock said. He had no idea who the third one was until he noticed the top of a head in the corner of the picture. There was only one person he knew who was that short and had hair like that. If that was John then this new person must be the angel that was living with him.

"Dean makes everyone look like a fool."

"Take this away from me," Sherlock said as he shoved the laptop back at Sam. "Couldn't they have at least tried to get the nose right?" He ignored the amused snort from Sam and sat back.

"Hi boys," a female voice greeted them and the same cop that Sam and Sherlock had encountered earlier. She was wearing black semi dressy blouse, blue jeans, and boots. She had cleaned up from an hour earlier when she was bringing a handcuffed slacker by the name of Digger into custody.

"Hey Jody," Sam said as he stood up and embraced her. "It's great to see you."

"It's always good to see you," Jody said. "Where's your brother?"

"London," Sam answered. "Jody this is Robert."

"Hey there, I'm Jody." She held out her hand to him.

"Hello," Robert said as he shook her hand. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Pardon?" Jody asked.

"The ring on your finger belonged to your husband. It is obviously a man's ring and your own ring is on your other hand. You are also wearing a simple beaded bracelet, a gift from your child. He or she is not with you and one could only guess that the child is with a baby sitter or considering the fading and yellowing of the paint and a few chips the child is old enough to be home by their self or that they are sadly gone. Considering the bracelet is on the same hand as your husband's ring I believe they are gone."

"How the hell?" Jody asked as she pulled back.

"He does that," Sam explained. "It's a useful skill for hunting, but it can freak other people out."

"I could probably use someone as sharp as him," Jody said as she sat down next to Sam. "That is if we actually had any mysteries. Most crooks here are pretty sloppy."

"Or perhaps they are morons and you outwit them," Sherlock simply stated. "Or they are average and you are quite the thinker."

"Why is it when anyone is named Robert they try to charm me?" Jody chuckled and looked up at the approaching waitress. "Hey Carol just give me my usual."

"Got it," the waitress wrote down her order. "What would tall and handsome like?"

"The sidewinder soup and salad," Sam said. "Can I get the dressing on the side?"

"No problem," Carol said and glanced up at Sherlock. "What about you pretty eyes?"

"I'll have the turkey club with the avocado and fries," Sherlock answered. He held back from trying to analyze the waitress as handed the menus back to her

"I'll run these orders in and check back on you."

"How are you able to hunt and fight when you just eat all that health food?" Jody asked as soon as Carol had walked away.

"Because I eat healthy," Sam said with a shrug.

"You gotta get some real meat and potatoes in your system."

"I know I am interrupting," Sherlock said. "But we need an object that once belonged to Bobby Singer."

"He's a little anxious to get the job done," Sam said.

"I understand," Jody said and pulled something out of her pocket that was wrapped in cloth. "I looked for what you asked me to look for." She unwrapped the cloth revealing an old watch.

"This should do it," Sam said as Jody rewrapped the watch.

"I hope it works for you," Jody told him.

"So do we."

Sherlock tuned them out as he thought about their goal. He hoped Dean, Castiel and Charlie were making some headway in London and he had hoped the others were well. He had hoped that they could find a way to organize the souls in heaven to organize and overthrow Metatron, but his biggest concern was Sam and he was going to keep a closer eye on him and not because he promised Dean he would look after Sam.


	14. A Spoonful of Sugar

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 13: A Spoonful of Sugar_

* * *

"What the hell have I been smoking?" Dean asked as he walked through the brightly colored garden. The trees had long curving branches that ended in fluffy clumps of leaves and that came in various shades of green as well as red, gold, ten, orange, and even violet. Some of the trees were filled with flowers of various sizes, shapes and colors and some were filled with fruit. In fact every kind of fruit that Dean could have imagined were in the trees, even watermelons and pineapples.

He continued to walk around the trees and stepped on the soft carpet of grass that was a shade of green so bright it seemed to glow. There were more flowers dotting the beautiful lawn. There were shrubs that were filled with berries that sparkled like gems. Did he watch something like Alice in Wonderland before he went to bed?

Dean paused when he came to a river and waterfall that was filled not with water but a rich golden beer. The plants near the riverbank had sprouted pies. He was unsure at first until he took a closer look and yes those were pies. This was a good dream.

"Good job subconscious," Dean said as he kneeled down and picked up one of the pies.

"Dean, I just fell asleep," Sherlock walked out from behind one of the trees just as Dean was about to take a big bite from the pie.

"Good timing," Dean said and looked at him, half expecting his dream partner to be dressed in some bright green or purple outfit. Sherlock was dressed in a simple gray T-shirt and jeans.

"There is-"Sherlock stopped to take in his surroundings. "You really do dream about pie and beer? I'm surprised there are no scantily clad women parading about."

"Yeah and?" Dean asked. "It's better than that black and white museum of the dead that you concocted."

"You make it sound like it was a horror movie," Sherlock said, nonplussed.

"No but if a shrink saw what I saw then they would put you away in padded walls." He remembered walking down halls that were black and white and there were paintings of people being murdered in several different ways.

"We are not here to discuss me," Sherlock said. "Nor we are here to discuss your little costume party."

"What did you think of that?" Dean asked with a smile. "I think that was my best performance of you since the last time I was you." He noticed the way Sherlock was glaring at him. "Oh fine what is it?"

"We are here to discuss Sam."

"Sam? What's he up to now?"

"There is something not right about him," Sherlock said as he stared at the beerfall. "While I was tied to a chair in Nebraska Sam was able to take on eight vampires by himself. He was barely sweating when he rescued me."

"I'm not surprised," Dean said. "I was able to take on an entire of nest of at least twice that many, but then again I was also a vampire at the time."

"Fascinating and horrible feeling."

"No kidding. But back to Sam. He once took off the head of a psychopath turned vampire with just a bit of wire and his own strength."

"That was one and he had killed eight of them with just a single blade," Sherlock said. His hands were clenched and ice blue eyes flashed with intensity.

"He has been a little more powerful lately. We all know that. The trials changed him, made him stronger and faster. I'd be more worried if he collapsed again or if he shot death rays out of his eyes."

"Sam has been hiding something from me."

"That aint new with him. He's always been hiding something from me." He blinked. "And you are being all concerned. This is kind of a new side of you."

"I have my keen eye on your brother not out of concern but because you asked me to look out for him."

"Like Mycroft wants me to look out for you."

"Oh dear lord," Sherlock said as he placed his hand over his eyes. "He must feel so small now that he can't keep an eye on me. That must be so frustrating for him." He smiled. "He can control the traffic lights in all of London but he can't have a camera watch my every move."

"He's just glad you are alive," Dean said and crossed his arms. "Maybe you should cut him a little slack."

"And maybe you should heed my advice when it comes to Sam."

"You probably are on to something there, Sherly," Dean noticed how everything, including Sherlock was fading. "Keep watch over him. Watch him closely and tell me...everything." The last word was spoken into his pillow as the sun streamed in through the window and onto his face.

* * *

The dream was still on Dean's mind all through breakfast. Charlie and Cas tried to engage him in their conversation but Dean was too lost in his dream. After her last bite of eggs, Charlie was about to retreat to her room to work on the hard drive when someone approached their table.

"I am not interrupting am I?" Greg Lestrade asked.

"Not really," Cas said as he wiped his mouth.

"Maybe Mr. Daydreamer here," Charlie said as she pointed at Dean.

"No you are not," Dean said before he shook his head and decided to ignore Charlie. "What's the reason for the visit, Greg?"

"I managed to grab something from Crown's place," Lestrade said as he handed a plastic evidence bag with a hard drive in it. "This was from his computer."

"Breaking protocol by bringing that to us," Dean said. "You are not going to get in trouble?"

" Maybe, but I don't care. He was willing to sacrifice himself on John's, Mrs. Hudson's and my behalf," Greg said as handed the drive to Charlie. "This is the least I can do for him."

"I'm sure he appreciates that," Dean told him before pointing at the sky. "I kinda wonder what it's like for him up there."

"Probably complaining about how boring it is," Greg said with a smile. "I'm off for the day. I plan on taking a nice little fishing trip."

"You have fun with that," Dean told him as he handed the drive to Charlie. "I know you won't disappoint." He turned back towards Lestrade and gave him a friendly wave as the former DI walked off.

"You two do whatever you have planned," Charlie said. "Unless it is something even crazier and stupid than before."

"Haven't thought that far in advance," Dean answered before he took a sip from his coffee cup.

It was going to be just him and Cas since Charlie was going to be spending every waking hour while working on both drives. Dean had a few hours to kill before his coffee date with Molly and Cas wanted to spend time with Barachiel.

IS NOW A GOOD TIME TO COME OVER-DW Dean had sent to John.

WE ARE BOTH AT WORK RIGHT NOW-JW

"Looks like we are going to spend some time at the library," Dean said.

* * *

The Library that a wingless angel happened to work at was of course seven stories tall. There were motivational posters about reading on the walls, along with drawings and paintings of famous authors. There were even a few stone busts of some of the authors.

"I'm not familiar with this man," Cas said as he pointed at the bust of H.G. Wells. "I heard of his name but I'm not familiar with his work."

"He was a classic Sci-fi writer before the word Sci-fi was even coined," Dean explained. "He wrote about time travel and alien invaders and beast men."

"If you are interested in books by H.G. Wells I am happy to show you where they are located," Barachiel said from behind. He was dressed in a tan suit that had leather patches on the elbows and a drab green tie. He had a small stack of books in his arms.

"Hello, brother," Cas greeted.

"So this is where you are employed," Dean said in an amused tone. "It's kind of neat seeing you guys in mundane work."

"Books are never mundane," Barachiel said in a slightly insulted tone.

"I am kind of curious," Dean said once he noticed polished brass name tag pinned to the angel's chest. "But is your vessel an actual librarian named Stan Burke?"

"It was easier to take on his job than to find a new one," Barachiel explained. "Are you here to check out any books?"

"Don't have a card," Dean said. "Since we won't be here that long I don't think I'm going to get one either."

"You can still read," Barachiel told him. "I will not stop you."

"I'm not going to stay for long," Dean said as he tapped his watch. "I have a date."

"A romantic date?" Barachiel asked as he raised an eyebrow. "I won't keep you two for long then."

"We are not dating each other," Cas informed him. "Dean is going on a coffee date with Molly Hooper."

"The nice young lady who works in the morgue," Barachiel said and nodded. "She is quite lovely, but her heart is for another man who many believed to be dead, but he isn't." He frowned at them. "I can read it in your eyes and hers. Why won't you tell anyone? You should at least tell John."

"We'll let him know when we crush the network," Dean said. He decided to change the subject. "I still want to thank you for your help yesterday."

"It was an interesting experience," the angel said as he set the books down on the table. "Trying to be someone else like that. I can see why humans enjoy acting, and costume parties and Halloween. Do humans also feel strange tingling sensations on their backs when they dress up?"

"No and it's only fun when you know you can take off your costume and still be yourself," Dean said. "Speaking of costume I know that might have been rough for you to shave off the goatee like that."

"I wasn't too attached to it," Barachiel said in a cool and calm tone. Dean knew he didn't mean to pun but apparently Cas found it funny.

"Not too attached," Cas said between snickers. "And you shaved it off."

"Okay, Cas that's enough," Dean ordered.

"What did I say that was wrong?" Barachiel asked.

"Nothing," Dean said. He noticed someone was headed towards the table. "You have a customer." He pointed to the thirteen year old girl.

"Hello and how may I serve you?" Barry asked.

"Do you have any copies of Catching Fire?" The girl asked in a hopeful tone. "I looked everywhere and looked at all the shelves and I can't find any."

"I believe I do," Barachiel said as he looked through the books that was carrying. "Ah here we are." He put one stamp one it. "Now it's checked in. May I see your card?"

"Here it is," the girl said and handed the angel her library card.

Barry scanned the card, typed something on his computer before he stamped two books. "Now it's checked out." He handed the book to the girl along with another book. "Mocking Jay is also here and checked out for you. They are both due in a week."

"Thank you," the girl said as she walked away with her books.

"Angels might be crummy at being human, but you are good at being a decent person," Dean told him.

"I have learned while hiding my true nature," Barry said. "Is there something else I can help you out with?"

"Cas can stay here and chat," Dean said after he had glanced at his watch. "I have to get going."

* * *

Dean had debated into dressing up a bit for his date with Molly. He would still wear jeans but he found a nice button down shirt that he wore along with the coat. He loved his new coat and could understand why Sherly had one. Besides the fact that it kept him warm it looked pretty damn badass. He also combed back his hair a bit and reapplied his deodorant and dabbed on a bit of cologne.

"This is very nice," Molly said as she took in her surroundings. She was wearing a nice pastel blue blouse, dark skirt that ended at her knees and dressy sandals. A part of her hair was pulled up into a bun while the rest hung in waves around her shoulders.

"Nice earrings," Dean said when he noticed the sparkling gems in her ears. "Same cubic zirconia as before?"

"Yes. I guess we can say that was when we have officially met."

"And I made use of his secret power," Dean said as he tapped the table. "Kinda interesting how he is there and I'm here again."

"Just in the right bodies," Molly said as she ran her fingers through her hair. She was flirting with him, but nervous. Dean couldn't read people like Sherlock but he could tell if a woman was interested in him. The way Molly had dressed told Dean that she liked him but was still loyal to Sherlock.

"He was too skinny for me," Dean said. "I didn't feel right. He was too skinny and too pale and his feet were too flat and his hair was too curly."

"He was perfect," Molly said.

"Except for the fact that he is arrogant and his head is too far up his ass to notice you and take time to treat you right when you are beautiful, smart, sweet and you are one of the few people that actually like him and you can add myself and the rest of the bat cave to that list."

"Bat cave?" Molly asked. She blushed when she realized their server had approached them with their cups of coffee.

"One mocha latte," their server said and set down the large cup in front of Molly. "And one slice of chocolate raspberry cake." He set down the plate in front of her. "And for the gentleman one brown eye and one lemon tart."

"Thanks," Dean said and waited for their server to walk away before explaining. "Our home is a special bunker that we call the Bat cave."

"Oh I see," Molly said before she took a sip from her coffee. "He does notice me. I am the one who counted as he said. Don't forget before he was teleported to your bat cave he was living at my flat. He was hurt, not just physically from when he faked his death, but on the inside. I drew him baths, I made him tea and soup, I held him and just let him talk and cry. I kissed him and he kissed me and then one night after work we were on the sofa and he asked me about my day and I described slicing into dead bodies and…" The way she trailed off and the deep crimson that swept across her face and neck followed by her rapid eating of her cake only meant one thing.

"Wow," Dean gasped. "Really?"

"I can't believe I said that." She covered her face with her hands. "I am so embarrassed."

"Don't worry about it. You are the only woman I know that managed to tame him." That also meant he had lost the bet with Sam. Dean had wondered if Sherlock was a virgin and told Sam that Cas would pop his cherry before Sherly.

"I miss him," Molly said. "Not just because of that. I miss the way he would ask for a pancreas or a severed ear, I miss when noticed I changed something about my appearance, I miss his suggestions on what to get at the cafeteria, I miss when he was being an ass. I miss him."

"So does everyone else," Dean said. "The only difference is you can still text each other, except you have to call him Robert." Dean held up his phone.

"I know I guess I am lucky. I'm just greedy for him."

"You will see him and hopefully soon, once we find out whom number 2 is and Charlie is working on that as we-"the sound of a Jurassic Park velociraptor screeching indicating a text message interrupted him. "As we were speaking and that might be her now." He looked at the text.

I NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOU NOW-MH

"Is it Charlie?" Molly asked.

"No it's not." Dean said as he typed a message.

HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET THIS NUMBER?-DW

"Is it rude if I asked who it was?"

"Robert's brother," Dean answered before he took a long gulp from his coffee and a bite from his tart. Another message came in.

THERE WILL BE A CAR IN FRONT OF THE COFFEE HOUSE-MH

"Persistent ass," Dean grumbled. "Runs in the family."

CAN'T I'M ON A DATE-DW He wondered how long until Mycroft would answer. This time it was only a few seconds.

CHARLIE HAS A NAME FOR US-MH

"Why didn't he say so in the first place," Dean grumbled and looked up at Molly. "I really hate having to cut this short."

"Oh no I understand," Molly said. "I do have to be at work in a few hours."

"Maybe we can reschedule for something like supper or drinks?"

"We should." She took one last drink from her cup and one last bite from her cake.

Dean waved their server over and asked for the check before he chugged down the rest of his coffee and wrapped the rest of his tart in a napkin. After he had paid he was going to give Mycroft a piece of his mind.


	15. Chapter 14: Deeper and Deeper

**Live to Rise**

**A/N: This chapter will have a little F/F nothing too graphic and mostly focusing on Dean's reaction to the making out.**

**New season of SPN has started and it appears Abaddon has gone back to her body that Sam had toasted. I have different plans for her and this is an AU where her previous body is destroyed and she needs a new meatsuit.**

* * *

_Chapter 14: Deeper and Deeper_

Dean nearly stormed out of the coffee shop but he wanted to make sure Molly would be able to get home with no trouble and called her a cab before he looked for Mycroft's car. It didn't take him long to locate it. The car was as Mycroft had said parked right across the street from the shop. To Dean it was a glossy black finger in the air at him.

"Please let me know if anything comes up," Molly said before she got inside her cab.

"And to reschedule," Dean added before he closed the door for her. He watched the cab drive away for a few minutes before he marched straight up to the car and knocked on the roof.

The door opened and Mycroft stared at him in disapproval.

"This better be good," Dean snarled.

"You were on a date with Molly Hooper?" Mycroft asked with a raise of the eyebrow.

"Not what you think," Dean said. "It was a casual friendly date over coffee." He held up a hand. "There was nothing romantic about it. I wasn't stealing your brother's girlfriend." He noticed the way Mycroft was trying to stifle a laugh. "You don't think it's possible he might have a girlfriend?

"I have never seen him interested in anyone sexually even with two women who are interested in him."

"More like two and a dozen with the dozen being on my side of the pond, including a vampire."

"She didn't try to feed on him did she?" There was a touch of actual concern in Mycroft's voice.

"Nope but she did turn him into a vampire." Dean waited for Mycroft's reaction. "He got better like I did."

"So there is a cure."

"For vampirism and sadly not for werewolves." Dean leaned back. "So about this name."

"One of the hard drives your friend was hacking into had a warning system," Mycroft explained. It had sent emails to a few people, including someone I have interrogated. His mobile became active while in custody."

"And he aint talking?" Dean guessed. He remembered he still has his tart and took a bite. He wondered if Mycroft cared if he got crumbs on the upholstery. If he did have a problem then that was too bad.

"Yes but the e-mail has reached someone who will talk."

"So where is this guy?"

"You have already made your first mistake," Mycroft said.

"It's a woman?"

"Not a woman. She is known as The Woman. She is known to play the field to her benefit. She was intrigued by my brother and he was intrigued by her as well, she is also the only one besides my brother to come back from the dead."

"Did she actually die?" Dean asked and wondered how she came back. "Because I've died more times than that and yet I'm here."

"How did that happen for you?"

"None of your business," Dean answered with a smile. "So what did this chick have to say?"

"She is not willing to speak to me, personally. She wishes to speak only to the man who now goes by the alias of Robert Harvelle."

"Does she know?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Mycroft said as his finger tapped against the curved handle of his umbrella. Dean could see a small trigger mechanism. He wondered if it was the same as the umbrella as the one that shot a tranquilizer dart at Cas.

"Looks like we have a problem," Dean said before took another bite.

"We do not have a problem. You are the one who will speak with her."

Dean nearly spat out the lemony sweet goodness. "What?"

"I have given her your number. She will contact you soon."

"Now wait a second you arrogant son of a bitch. First you somehow get your tea cup grabbing hands on my number and then you give it away to some stranger and you expect me to speak with Mata Hari?" He noticed the surprised look Mycroft given him. "You and Sam I swear. You guys need to give me some credit."

"She will want to speak with Sherlock Holmes."

"Who is dead."

"Who happened to make an appearance yesterday at Scotland Yard."

"Oh hell no," Dean groaned. He didn't want to have to put on that getup again. "Maybe I could send Cas."

"She would eat him alive."

"Fine I'll do it. What's her name?" Dean asked. "Besides The Woman."

"Irene Adler. Try not to behave like a complete fool, Dean Winchester and keep your hormones in check." He smiled as the car slowed down. "And here we are at your hotel again."

"Great," Dean said as he tore out of there. He wasn't just doing it to be a rude dick to the guy. He did gulp down a good sized coffee and he had to pee.

* * *

Dean had gotten the call at midnight while he was in Charlie's room along with Cas. He watched as Charlie fought against her heavy eyelids while she continued to crack the second drive. The first one had several names and according to Mycroft who texted him again that the names belonged to those who were either dead or incarcerated and not talking.

"If many are already in jail or dead does that mean Moriarty's network has weakened?" Cas asked.

"Many are still getting hired," Dean explained. "The guy was not just a criminal mastermind he was the go-to guy for all the major crooks in the country. He was like Bobby but for bad guys."

"And the one we are looking for is like Garth?" Cas asked.

"Kinda," Dean said. "He is keeping the illusion that Moriarty is still alive and running things."

"But his body has been found." Cas yawned and stretched out on Charlie's bed. "Before it got snatched away by Crowley's minions. That does disturb me that he wanted to keep this psychopath's body, at least he did before he was mostly cured. Do you think Moriarty's corpse still in Hell?"

"It is possible. Some just know Moriarty was the big boss and only a few knew his name. I bet all the minor snipers, and petty cat burglars don't even know they are part of some large network of crime."

"Like me and my co-workers," Charlie half mumbled. "We had no idea we were working for the head leviathan."

"Exactly," Dean said and glanced over at Charlie. "You have barely slept. I think you should take a break and crawl into bed. Grab at least five hours."

"We should retreat to our room?" Cas asked as the text signal for Dean's phone went off.

"You go to our room," Dean said as he read his message. "I gotta go meet with The Woman."

Dean did not like the look of the place. It was an abandoned building and it had been for a few years now. It was chilling as he could hear the echo from his shoes. He hated how he felt like he was being watched by everything and anything in the shadows. He shone the light from his phone whenever he heard a strange sound. He chastised himself. He shouldn't be this jumpy. He was a hunter after all and he had spent his whole life chasing after things that were lurking in the shadows.

"C'mon Dean," he muttered to himself. Maybe he felt this way because he was being set up by a man who was the main drive behind the British government. Sherly was going to owe him big time.

He rubbed his thumb at his nose and felt the same fake nose he wore before over it. He dabbed on a little spirit gum on the prosthetics before he slapped them on along with the eyebrows and the wig. He was not going to bother with the contacts or any other makeup and he put it on after he got off the cab and was in the entrance of the building, using only the light from a flickering street lamp outside the open door to put it on.

Dean checked the time on his phone and wondered where this woman was. He was only going to hang around the place for another hour before leaving and texting Mycroft and telling him where to stick it.

He froze when he heard the sound of a second pair of shoes striking the ground, by the echo he could tell the person was lighter and the shoes had heels. This had to be the person he was looking for. Damn. Either dressing like the genius was effecting his way of thinking, he had a little bit of Sherlock still inside him or just maybe Sherlock was doing an amazing job of training Dean's brain.

It was a woman and she was quite the woman. She had a lovely figure, legs that were slender and yet strong and dressed in smoke colored hosiery. She had dark hair pulled up and a pale oval face. She stared at Dean with pale blue eyes and sultry grin that could also mean she was about to screw someone over. Damn, she reminded Dean of Bela.

"Hello Miss Adler," Dean said as he tried to imitate Sherlock's voice.

"Hello," a female voice that commanded both power and made Dean feel like he was lying on a velvet blanket. "And how are you this evening, Dean Winchester is it?" She tilted her head and squinted.

"So you can see right through this?" Dean asked as he pointed at the wig. "Did Microsoft tip you off?"

"If you mean the Ice Man then no," Irene said. "I have been informed by someone that you know."

"And who would that be?" Dean asked and was suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of chocolate, taffy, licorice and cake before he blacked out.

* * *

Dean woke up on a bed with his arms held against the bed posts and they were secured in place by what appeared to have been velvet handcuffs. He could no longer feel the getup on his face. He looked down and saw that his feet were tied by the ankles to the corners of the bed. He was also only wearing a pillow on his crotch.

"God Damn it," Dean growled. It was like dealing with Bela again, except when Bela screwed Dean over it usually ended up with either Sam getting shot or him and Sam getting arrested, or losing the Colt. Being tied to his bed was actually not that bad.

"You are awake?" Irene asked as she walked into the room wearing a black leather bikini like outfit, high heels and gloves. She was holding a riding crop.

"Am I dreaming?" Dean asked and was met with a light smack of the crop on his chest. "Ouch Damn it!"

"I hope that would answer your question," Irene said as she traced his tattoo with her fingernail. "Demon proofing?"

"You know about demons?"

"I know enough," Irene said as she rubbed the crop against Dean's inner thigh. "You are a hunter who is not the brightest star in the sky yet you shine." Her smile grew. "You were able to stand up to Michael, Lucifer and later on Raphael. You fought against and killed Dick Roman who was something called a Leviathan."

"Where are you getting your information?"

"You also know Sherlock Holmes. I was hoping to see those lovely cheekbones and silver-blue eyes again but instead I get this American with intriguing green eyes and adorable little freckles."

"So nothing about my nipples?"

"These are nice," Irene said and brushed the end of her crop against Dean's chest. "It's a pity they don't do anything for me. I prefer my nipples on ample round breasts of women."

"We should have sent Charlie," Dean joked. "She likes girls too."

"That is quite nice you want to send me gifts, but I want to know something." She bent down and whispered in Dean's ear. "Where is Sherlock?"

"Slaying vampires is last I heard." He noticed the way she was staring at him. "Don't believe me?"

"I believe a lot of things my dear Winchester boy. I have traveled around the world and come across dangers most people cannot imagine."

"Try me."

"I'm pretty sure you would like that." She had his number.

"Can you answer one teeny little question? If Mycroft actually got off his ass and come here would he be the one tied up instead?" Now that was an image he never wanted in his head and now he was trying to forget it.

"He would still be clothed and tied to an office chair that I would have wheeled out onto the pavement."

"I would have loved to see that, but what makes me so special?"

"Were you not listening to me when I was complimenting you? Dean Winchester who helped save the world from the apocalypse?"

"Let me get this straight. You just want to strip me naked and threaten to whip me because I saved the world a few times?" He looked up at the ceiling. "Thank you finally an award for saving the planet."

"This is not what you are hoping for," Irene said and smiled.

"Well I was hoping for the name of the guy who is holding the strings now, but I wouldn't mind settling for your blue plate special. You are either a hooker who likes it rough or a dominatrix."

"You are correct, but sadly I do not know the name of Moriarty's accomplice outside of his initials."

"And they are?"

"S and M." She said with a smile. "Believe me I am not making that up."

"That's not much a lead," Dean said.

"But it is more than what you had," Irene said. "And I will give you more than what you have asked for." She looked over her shoulder. "Candy Cane?"

"Coming," a lithe blond woman with golden brown eyes walked into the room. She was completely naked.

"Don't lie," Irene said as she slid her hand down Candy's breast. "You are not but I will make you." She leaned in forward to a kiss and Candy met with anticipation.

Dean blinked at the display. He couldn't believe this was actually happening, but it was. He watched as the two women made out while rubbing their hands over each other's breasts. Their hands traveled south while Dean pointed north.

"Now I actually owe Mycroft something," Dean moaned out. He was sure if this was pleasure or torture as he was enjoying the display but couldn't reach down and take care of the growing problem.

"That was wonderful as always," Candy said. She was suddenly dressed and Dean couldn't remember if there was another outfit in the room unless it was on the floor.

"Of course I am," Irene said. "And you like it."

"I know you like this form," Candy said before she turned to Dean. "Did you like it, Winchester?"

"I can't complain," Dean said. "Did Irene tell you who I am or are you the one who told her everything?"

"I might have," Candy said as she placed a lollipop in her mouth. "Good job on getting Lucy back into the pit by the way." Her accent shifted towards an American one. "And you took out Michael in there. Gotta hand it to Sammy."

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked.

"Dean I'm actually surprised you didn't figure it out, but then again Sam was always the one with brains." Her form shifted, hair grew shorter, breasts flattened and facial features shifted until she resembled a man that Dean thought he would never see again.

"Gabriel?"

"Surprise kiddo."


	16. Chapter 15: Friends on the Other Side

**Live to Rise **

_Chapter 15: Friends on the Other Side_

* * *

"Gabriel," Dean repeated the name just to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. He was sure that he was dreaming at first but he still could feel the slight sting from the riding crop and his aching hard on which had already started to retreat.

"I think we have already established that part," the angel said after he had pulled the candy out of his mouth and gave him a wink. "Still haven't really gotten that thinking part down have you?"

"I thought you were dead," Dean said.

"I thought so too at first," Gabriel said and shrugged. "I felt the stab from my spoiled brat brother and then everything went dark and the next thing I know I'm naked and getting my bare ass sunburned in the middle of the Tunisian desert."

"How did you come back?"

"Who do you think? The same person who brought Castiel back several times of course. I guess he still cares."

"Castiel? Of course he cares. I think he will be happy to know that you are alive, Barachiel also."

"Not Cas you moron, I meant our father," Gabe said and blinked. "Whoa wait a sec." He held up his hands. "Do not tell Barachiel anything about me. If you looked at Michael's ass you would see the lip prints Barachiel had left on it."

"He's different now," Dean said. "Apparently after Lucifer and Michael were sealed he went on a sabbatical and now he is a bunny slipper wearing, Jell-O obsessed librarian who lives with a human army doc."

"This army doc wouldn't be John Watson would it?" Irene asked. She had slipped off to change into a night gown and bathrobe. She had also let her hair down.

"Not revealing anything," Dean told her. He still couldn't trust her. "And when are you going to untie me?" He blinked when she held up a key. "You are going to do that now?"

"I was waiting for you to ask," Irene said as she walked over to Dean's right wrist.

"Dean, don't open your mouth right now," Gabriel said as Irene unlocked the shackles. "I know you have a lot of questions but when you open your mouth something stupid usually falls out. Now I bet the first question is how long and where I've been."

"Well it wa-"

"Stop talking," Irene told him as she grabbed his lips.

"I've been around to remember two almost back to back eclipses," Gabriel answered. "At least that's as far as I remember and for where I was I happened to have been living it up in beautiful Monte Carlo. It's a perfect place for a former angel and trickster to live. Wine, women, and song and beaches and gambling and I was happy and free and enjoying life, and then one night, just about right at dawn I have this burning pain on my wings like someone dipped them in lava and you know what I said?"

Dean shook his head. "No I don't."

"I said what the hell have those Winchester's done now? Then I heard whispers from my fellow wingless family and they said it was the fault of Castiel and Metatron and now that was a name I haven't heard in over a thousand years. I learned that you actually didn't have anything to do with it this time and you and Sam were busy working on the trials to close the gates of hell." He crossed his arms. "So how did you screw that one up?"

"We didn't we-"

"Gates are still open."

"Sam was curing Crowley and…I couldn't let him finish-"

"Because he would die," Gabriel said and placed his hand over his eyes. "Why weren't you doing the trials?"

"I wanted to do them but-"

"You screwed up, and you tried to cure Crowley?"

"He's mostly human and he's kind of like our butler and cook now."

"So that is why the demons aren't walking about," Gabriel said as he started pacing. "They are congregating, working on choosing a new ruler and who knows how long that is going to take."

"I thought they were afraid of you guys," Dean said and pointed his free hand at the angel.

"There is that stupid dribbling out now."

"You know what? Bite me," Dean snarled. "We are trying to help you guys along with taking Moriarty's network down. Metatron used Cas, okay? He tricked him into helping him and the last thing he did was steal Cas's grace and we are working on a plan to gank the douche bag." He paused when he noticed how silent Gabriel was and how his hands were clenched into fists.

"HE DID WHAT?!" A large flash accompanied the shout and the light bulbs in the lamps had shattered. There was a gasp from Irene and snap of fingers. The darkness was gone and the bulbs were repaired.

"You still are pretty powerful despite being grounded," Dean said in an impressed tone.

"I was cut," Irene said. "Some of the glass pierced my skin and I am healed."

"Anything for you," Gabriel said and winked at her. "Now before you ask, Dean, I met this gal in Monte Carlo about seven months ago. She was on the run. I protected her and she asked me to be her body guard. I can be a hot gal for her and she is well you can see her obviously."

"Nice deal."

"It is a win-win situation," Irene said with a smile.

"She still is carrying a torch for this Sherlock guy who—you once switched bodies with. That must have been fun."

"I bet it was," Irene said as her eyes lit up with interest again.

"Okay that's enough," Dean said as he finished untying his ankles. "I think we know enough now."

"Not so fast bucko," Gabe said as he placed a finger against Dean's chest. "We all want pretty much the same…well I never met Sherlock but Irene here does want you to take down this S.M, bastard for him."

"Which we are going to do," Dean informed him.

"We also want to close the gates of hell and take care of Metatron, by that I mean rip his spine out and shove it up his ass before I cram it down his throat." His voice lowered into a growl. "I want to be there when a blade is shoved through his throat. I want to spit on his burned out wings."

"Because he burned out your wings?"

"Because of what he did to my little brother. He is not going to get away with it." He closed his eyes "Fuck this confliction"

"Wait there is a confliction?"

"Stop talking," Gabriel said and pointed at him. "I am pissed, beyond pissed at him, but there is a part that feels sorry for him. We both left home around the same time. We both appreciate humans in our own way. We were both out on our own and we barely came across each other. Maybe if I had talked to him more…" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "If I had known this was going to happen I would have sought him out. We could of hung out together and we could of just talked, but that does not excuse him for what he had done."

"Are you blaming yourself?" Irene asked softly as she brushed her fingers under his chin.

"A little."

"Don't pin the blame on you," Dean said. "Don't carry the guilt when it was not your fault to begin with. Metatron chose to go down this path."

"I know," Gabriel said and smiled. "Lots of stupid falls from those lips but sometimes the right thing comes out once in a while."

"We have a plan on taking on Metatron," Dean informed him.

"Not going to work," Gabriel said as his voice softened. "Whatever it is it will not work."

"Then what will?"

"Restoring our wings," Gabriel said and crossed his arms.

"And you have taken care of one of the tasks needed to restore them," Dean said. "An angel has to be intimate with human."

"I did feel a tingling sensation just then," Gabriel said as he reached for his back. "Second time this week."

"The first task has also been completed," Dean told him. "All I know is an angel had do something for a human."

"This is good," Gabriel said and rubbed his hands together. "Tell that kid with the tablet he has my appreciation and keep on working at it, oh and Sam has to complete the last trial."

"No," Dean said and shook his head. "I won't let him die. You obviously know what it's like to be a big brother and feel. Would you let Cas if you were both born human?"

"Death would only be the beginning," Gabriel said and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I like Sam too, but this is the way it has to be." He took a deep breath. "Go get dressed and there will be a cab waiting for you." He walked out of the room before Dean had a chance to say anything.

"I'm not going to let him die," Dean said as he slipped on his underwear. "No one is going to die."

"Everybody dies," Irene said. "It all depends on if they stay dead."

"Thanks for the tip." He put his pants and shirt on. Once he returned to the hotel he was going to make sure that Charlie was sleeping before he climbed into bed himself and in the morning he was going to inform everyone about his meeting.

* * *

_Lebanon Kansas_

Sherlock watched as Sam mixed the concoction in the bowl. The ingredients were simple to find, including two kinds of ash that Sherlock had easily identified, oil, various herbs, a few drops of blood, and even a little bit of hard liquor the final ingredient was the watch, although Sherlock could not imagine someone like Bobby, or at least from the description he had received of Bobby to keep a lady's watch with him.

"That was Bobby's?" Kevin asked. He was seated on the couch and eating away at an apple. "I never met the guy and I don't think that was his."

"It wasn't," Fergus said as he set down the tea set. "I know a lot of details about the man. Some that you wish you didn't know but even he never owned a watch like that. He might have kept it in storage."

"It wasn't Bobby's," Sam said. He looked as tired as Sherlock had felt. After spending the night at Jody's the drove back home nonstop. They took turns driving and sleeping. Once they returned to the bunker they both napped and showered.

"So who are you going to summon?" Kevin asked.

Sherlock studied the watch. It was worn, the edges were frayed and the battery had been replaced at least twice. There was a small crack in the glass, cause by a fight or a breaking up of a fight. He had held it once and there were the faint aromas of lady's perfume, gunpowder and alcohol.

"Ellen Harvelle," Sherlock answered.

"Very good," Fergus said as he poured the tea. "I do wonder why we are summoning her and not Bobby."

"Because it is very simple," Sherlock said. "Bobby's bones were burned as was his remaining connection to the world, his flask. There is a possibility the spell won't work."

"Just before she and Jo died Ellen gave Bobby her watch," Sam explained. "It survived the fire of Bobby's home, mostly because he had kept it safe in his panic room and after Bobby died we gave several of his items, including Ellen's watch to Jody for safe keeping."

"Is she well?" Fergus asked. "After what I did to her is she still healthy?"

"Able to kick anyone's ass," Sam said. "You are not Crowley anymore. Now I need some silence please." He spoke the Latin incantation before he lit a match and set the bowl on fire.

Sherlock sipped at his tea while he waited. He didn't have to wait long before the ghostly image of an older woman with long brown hair appeared. She was dressed in a t-shirt, dirty and beat green jacket and blue jeans. She stared at them quizzically before she turned around and saw Sam.

"Finally someone I recognize," Ellen said. "Sam, why did you summon me?"

"Because you and Bobby and your daughter were contacting me," Kevin said as he stood up.

"And you are?" Ellen asked as she pointed at him.

"Kevin Tran current Prophet of the lord."

"What happened to that other guy you boys told me about?" Ellen asked. "The one who wrote all those books about you."

"Dead," Sam answered.

"Who are these two?"

"My real name is Sherlock Holmes. I was a consulting detective in London until I was set up by deranged individual who destroyed my reputation and life, threatened those who I cared about unless I took my life, which you can see I have faked it. I was brought to this country and now I reside with the Winchesters, Fergus, Castiel and Kevin and hunt along with them." He paused to take a breath. "The pseudonym the have given me is Robert Harvelle."

Ellen smiled. "Sam, I have to say that I feel honored."

"Fergus Mcleod, ma'am," he held out his hand. "I used to be called Crowley until Sam had nearly cured me. I am deeply sorry for all that I have done to you."

"You are holing up with a demon?" Ellen asked in shock and disgust.

"Former demon," Sam, Sherlock and Kevin said.

"Is that even possible?"

"It is," Sam said. "He's mostly human now."

"Where is Dean and you said Castiel is living with you? I like that angel. He's the only person I know who can out drink me."

"In England along with another friend," Sherlock explained. "Originally to rescue some people they know but now to help me bring down Moriarty's network, restoring my reputation if they can, but most importantly, reinsuring the people I care about are safe. "

"Did they take a cruise ship because the Dean that I know doesn't fly."

"We both flew to Scotland for Bobby," Sam explained.

"And now he's doing it for you," Ellen said and pointed at Sherlock. "I guess that shouldn't be surprised. That boy would do anything and everything for family."

Sherlock blinked and pondered what she had said. He didn't even focus on the pleasantries that she had exchanged with Sam. Did Dean actually consider Sherlock to be part of his family now?

"And that is pretty much the plan," Sam said as Sherlock returned from his deep thought. "Not sure how well it is going to work."

"I'm not sure if it's going to work either, sweetie," Ellen said. "But it beats just sitting around and doing nothing."

"You'll do it then?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Of course I will. Ash will get everyone together and by everyone I mean everyone including George Washington, Admiral Nelson, General Patton if I can find them and everyone who can and will kick this Metatron in the ass."

"Thanks," Sam said.

"Don't thank me just yet," Ellen said. "Now I want you and that Sherlock boy to get some rest. You look like you just got back from a long road trip." She smiled once more and flickered out of view.

"We just wait?" Kevin asked and Sam blew out the smoke.

"Apparently so," Sherlock answered. He was still curious about what Ellen had said and it was weighing on his mind. He took another sip from his tea.

"I think you should sit back and relax, Kev," Sam told the boy. "We don't know how long it will take to organize."

"You want me to try and focus on Heaven?" Kevin asked.

"If you can," Sam said before he took a sip from his own tea. The Americans didn't drink it too often but after a long trip Fergus would brew enough for everyone to comfort them.

"If the tea is fine I'll be off," Fergus said. "I have laundry to do."

"I'll give you a hand," Sam offered and followed after him.

Sherlock slowly drank his tea as he thought about Dean and Cas. Dean had mentioned that both Bobby and Ellen were like surrogate parents to him and both Dean and Sam had said that Cas was part of the family, but they never mentioned Sherlock before. Was he part of their family? Dean was actually determined to fly to London for him. He flew to London for Sherlock.

"What's with you?" Kevin asked.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

"You are just so deep in thought," Kevin told him. "Do you want to share?"

"Ellen said I was part of the family, at least to Dean."

"You are," Kevin told him and took a bite from the apple. "We all are, even Charlie and she doesn't really live here, but if they asked I bet she would move in. Would be nice to have a woman around."

"I am part of the family," Sherlock repeated and stood up. "Part of the family." He placed a hand against his mouth. "Why?"

"Because we like you, despite the fact you can be a know it all and pain in the ass. It's this thing with the Winchesters. They tend to adopt wayward orphans, despite the age and bring in surrogate parents."

"My parents are alive and I have a brother." He also had aunts, uncles and cousins and some of them were living in the states. His Aunt Jennifer and cousins, Mavis and Trevor were born in the U.S but he didn't feel like bringing that up at the time. Sherlock didn't want to admit that he did feel closer to Sam and the others than he did his biological family right now.

"And you are cut off from them right now and to tell the truth you seem closer to Dean than your real brother."

"We have a bond from when we were in each other's bodies. That is all." He tried to bat the thought away and needed something else to think about. "How are you coming along with the angel tablet? I believe you were trying to mention that you had finished translating the last two Tasks when we were about to perform the summoning."

"Oh yeah," Kevin said after he had finished chewing and swallowed. "An angel must assist a human who had been disgraced resume his honor. The second is an angel must be intimate with a human and the last is an angel must give a human their grace and only then will their wings return and they can return to Heaven."

"Barachiel has done in the first," Sherlock said and pursed his lips in thought. He had noticed it was too quiet. "Do you hear that?"

"I hear nothing."

"Exactly." Sherlock held up a finger. "If they were doing laundry then we would of heard the machine by now. Wait here." He walked off to the laundry room. There was nobody inside and the machine was not in use. They were both lying to him. As much as he enjoyed a good mystery he did not like this one.

"Where are you going?" Kevin asked as Sherlock ran past him.

"Trying to find them."

The bedrooms were empty as were the kitchen, the libraries and the bathrooms. They did not walk outside and that left the lab and the planetarium. The lab was locked but Sherlock kept a toothpick on him and he was able to undo the lock within seconds. He opened the door a crack and listened.

"No more than two shots this time," Fergus said softly.

"I usually do three," Sam said.

"Three is draining you too much."

"Fine I'll do two."

Sherlock kicked open the door.

Sam looked up to him in surprise as he pressed a needle into his skin.


	17. Chapter 16: Brother's Keeper

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter16: Brothers Keeper_

* * *

Sherlock felt like his whole body had petrified at the sight of Sam filling the syringe with his blood before he plunged the needle into Fergus's arm and injected it into him, by just giving him the small dose of his blood Sam had grown paler by a single shade and had started to sweat.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded as he stormed into the lab.

"Oh crap," Fergus said as he jumped away from Sam.

"This is not what you think it is," Sam said as he held his hands up, one hand holding the needle.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock repeated the question as he approached Sam.

"It's nothing you should be concerned about." Sam held up the needle high above his head.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked for the third time. He was not going to stop asking until he had an answer.

"You should answer the otter," Fergus said. "And he is concerned."

Sherlock jumped and snatched the needle out of Sam's hand before he placed it in his pocket. He glared into the younger man's hazel eyes. The same question he had asked before was on the tip of his tongue.

"Fergus needs booster shots every now and then," Sam explained as his arms dropped and he kept them behind his back. "And my blood is still pure and I do the ritual now and then to keep it pure for him."

"I don't want to become that thing again," Fergus said in a weak voice. "I can't regress into that monster, but Sam I don't want you to get hurt or sick or even die, not on my behalf."

"This is the only way," Sam said. "I don't have any other choice."

"There is always another solution," Fergus said. "You Hardy boys always manage to find some other way to save the day, no matter what I threw at you, or what Lucifer tried to throw at you or when you were up against Eve or those flying arses or Cas when he was in God mode. There is always another way and I don't need to remind you of that."

"Fergus-" Sam had started.

"Stop being thick and let this get through your antlers. Your life is more important than me being cured. I have seen you lot overcome a variety of obstacles and succeed and you rarely go the direct path, albeit you end up doing something really stupid like sell your soul or throw yourself into hell but you still succeed. I should have stopped letting you give me these shots."

"He is right," Sherlock told him. " Sam, you are being a bigger idiot than usual and I have grown to respect your intelligence despite the fact that it is lacking compared to mine. You are causing me to lose that respect." He grabbed Sam by the collar and pulled him down until he could easily speak into his ear. "I promised your brother that I would look out for you, to keep you safe and here at home, the safest place in the country if not the world and you are about to kill yourself doing something this moronic."

"Let go." Sam slapped at Sherlock's hand and stepped away from him. "This is my decision and choice, not yours." He side stepped him, rolled back his shoulders and marched straight out of the lab.

"I'm sorry," Fergus said after a minute of pure silence. "I should have told him no. I should have stopped the kid. I even tried to assure him that I don't need it that often."

"He's wrong," Sherlock said as he stared at the door to the lab. "It can be my choice." He folded his hands and brought them to his mouth.

"What are you implying, mate?"

"You were right about there being another way." Sherlock lowered his hands. "I will purify myself and cure you."

"You are willing to do that for us?"

"In order to keep Sam safe and to completely cure you of your evil," Sherlock confirmed. "I need to find Sam."

"Now I will get started on that laundry." Fergus scurried out of the room like a disciplined dog.

* * *

Sherlock walked back to their living room area where he found Sam had was slouching in front of his laptop. His face devoid of any expression and not saying anything when Sherlock had walked back into the room or even acknowledging Kevin who was leaning back on the sofa and finishing the last of his apple.

"You have decided to behave like a petulant child who was caught writing on the wall with a marker," Sherlock said, breaking the silence. He was met with nothing from Sam and a rustling from the sofa as Kevin sat up. "And you choose to ignore me even though you knew what you were doing was dangerous."

"Uh?" Kevin asked as his eyes darted between the two.

Sam kept his eyes on the screen and gave Sherlock the finger.

"Some of Dean's worst habits are rubbing off on you it seems." Sherlock told him and he felt some of Deans better habits were rubbing off on him.

"Did I just miss something?" Kevin asked.

"Sam was giving Fergus injections of his own blood, trying to purify and cure him."

"No I wasn't," Sam said and finally looked up from the laptop at him to glare at him. "I was just keeping him from going dark side again."

"With your own blood," Sherlock stressed.

"Sam, you know that's not a good idea," Kevin said. "You know what would happen to you if you give him too much and fully cure him."

"I was only giving him two injections," Sam said. "I only gave him one."

"You would have given him more if I haven't stopped you," Sherlock stated.

"And it would have only been two."

"This time," Sherlock said. "You told me you give Fergus boosters every now and then. "How long has this been going on?"

Once again Sam chose to be silent and returned his focus to his laptop.

"Dude, just answer the damn question," Kevin said.

"Seven months," Sam mumbled out.

"Seven?" Sherlock repeated. How was he only able to notice now? He pressed a thumb against his mouth for a few seconds before flinging his wrist out. "Damn. I could excuse a month or two, maybe even three tops, but seven. I should have been able to figure it out sooner."

"Sam has been putting himself in danger for seven months and you are pissed because you couldn't figure it out sooner?" Kevin asked and shook his head. "Seriously?"

"I am angry at myself because I could have stopped him sooner. I am angry at myself because I failed to protect him."

"You are not my brother," Sam said.

"No but I promised him. How were you able to elude me for this long?"

"Cause I usually did it when you were out on a hunt," Sam explained. "It had been a while since his last shot and I slipped up."

"You're not pissed at Sherlock for finding out," Kevin said as he pointed at Sam with his apple core. "You are pissed at yourself for making a mistake."

"Shouldn't you be watching Heaven?" Sam snapped at him.

"Do not take your anger out on him," Sherlock said.

"I'm getting a soda," Kevin said as he stood up. "Let me know when he takes the tampon out."

Sherlock kneeled on the sofa backwards and placed his elbows on the back and rested his chin on his hands as he watched Sam and studied him. Sam was still seated in a slouch with the corners of his mouth turned down slightly. The movement of his eyes told Sherlock he was reading something and after a few minutes of reading his anger melted away to a pensive expression.

"Why are you staring at me?" Sam asked. "I'm not going to sneak away now. Please don't tell me you are going to be literally watching me." He sat back and sighed. "I'm locking my bedroom door."

Sherlock adjusted himself until he was stretched out on the sofa and pulled out his mobile. It was time to let Dean know.

IS NOW A CONVIENANT TIME TO CALL? SH He set the mobile down on his chest and waited with his hands behind his head. He could hear Sam type every now and then and shuffle his feet.

YES WHY? DW

Sherlock dialed the number.

"Hi Sherly, I was thinking of making a call to you."

"Your brother is quite stubborn and insists on being ridiculous," Sherlock said.

"So what else is new? Speaking of pain-in-the-ass-brother's yours sent me on a little trip to visit The Woman."

"The Woman," Sherlock said as he sat up. "What is Irene Adler hiding this time?"

"Probably a whole lot more than what I was going to ask. I don't know which gal wants you more her or Molly."

"What did she have to say?"

"After stripping me down naked and tying me to a bed, which I really didn't mind, she gave me the initials of someone who is close to Moriarty. Do you know anyone with an S. and M. initials?"

"Those initials are not clear to me, although M and S could refer to Mike Stamford but immediately wipe the thought from your mind. He is the least likely suspect."

"Still wouldn't hurt to talk to him," Dean said.

"You would be reaching another dead end with him. I will explore my mind palace to search for someone who has those initials. Do you have anything else?"

"Charlie found a name with a lot of connections named Carrow and we are going to look for him but this is the real bombshell. Irene had a friend with her. She started out as a hot naked lady completed task number two with Irene and then she changed into Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Sherlock asked. "Are you referring to the archangel turned trickster that you and Sam had run into you? I thought he was dead."

"So did I. He says the plan we have won't work and he wants Sam to complete the trial because doing so won't just close the gates to hell but it will also defeat Metatron at the same time."

"That is quite the coincidence," Sherlock said as he looked at Sam who was staring back at him, intrigued with Sherlock's phone call. "I caught your brother trying to inject Fergus with more of his blood. He called it a booster to keep him mostly human."

"How the hell did we miss that?"

"He has mostly been doing it behind our backs, usually when we both are out on a hunt."

"Son of a bitch," Dean swore. "Put him on."

"Here," Sherlock said as he handed his mobile to Sam who looked like he didn't want to hear what Dean had to say to him. Sherlock rolled over onto the couch and closed his eyes.

"What the hell are you thinking, Sam?" Dean's voice could be heard.

"I don't want to hear it," Sam grumbled as he walked away.

Sherlock inhaled and tried to block the sounds as he went into his mind palace. He thought of the crimes he solved that were caused by Moriarty. The initials did not resurface. He thought of the call Moriarty took when they were at the pool. No one with the initials appeared. Sherlock remembered every single second he was in court with the criminal and the conversations they had, both in his flat and on St. Barts.

Sherlock had nearly put himself in a trance as he thought of anything, anyone that S and M could stand for. The people that appeared in the news to every crook he helped arrest for the past six years. Certain words appeared: Saint Michaels, System Maintenance, and Super Man.

Sherlock's eyes opened when a name flashed in his head, Sebby. It was a nickname and the man they were looking for is named Sebastian.

"Sebastian," Sherlock said as he sat back up. "Tell Dean we are looking for a Sebastian. The S stands for Sebastian." He nearly leaped over the back of the sofa and crowed around Sam.

"I'm telling him," Sam said and stepped away from Sherlock. "Yeah he just came up with a name. I don't know. I think he just dove into his mental storage space. He said the S stands for Sebastian and that is the only lead we have." He handed the phone out to Sherlock.

"I am sorry I have not come up with a last name," Sherlock said when he had his own mobile back."

"Sebastian M. is a good start," Dean said. "At least we will have his name. We still don't know what he looks like or where he is but we are a lot closer now than we were months ago."

"I will try to figure out the rest," Sherlock assured him.

"Don't overheat those processors trying. Just keep on watching Sammy for me and you wouldn't have any problem if I told your brother to kiss my ass next time he calls me?"

"Be my guest," Sherlock said with a grin. "Be sure to let him know I told him to piss off as well"

"If you get any messages from Kevin then let me know." Dean said and hung up.

"I could try looking up this Sebastian M. right here," Sam suggested and pointed at his laptop.

"It will be pointless to try and google him," Sherlock said. "You were looking up cases."

"Yes I was. I was just trying to get my mind off what happened before."

Sherlock nodded. "What did you find?"

"Nothing yet."

"Let me know when you do," he flopped back on the sofa and closed his eyes while trying to focus on the M part of the name. Several last names flashed by in his head as he tried figure out the last name of Moriarty's right hand man. He went through other clues and hints that he had not thought of before such as news reports both on the telly and the paper, case files he had seen on Lestrade's desk and when he figured out the password to Sally Donovan's terminal. His thoughts drifted to Lestrade and Donovan and even towards Anderson that moron. That was it! Moron…Moran…Sebastian Moran.

"Call your brother and tell him we are looking for Sebastian Moran," Sherlock said as he bolted up. "It make sense. Two years before I started to assist Lestrade Colonel Sebastian Moran was arrested on several murder charges. I caught only a quip from the news on telly and only the last name when mentioned in the papers. His crime was dull and did not interest me. I remember overhearing how he escaped from prison two and half years ago."

"This is Moriarty's number two?" Sam asked as he quickly dialed Dean's number.

"It has to be," Sherlock said as he grinned for cracking that miniature mystery.

"Hey Dean it's me," Sam said in the phone. "Well our guest hunter did it again. The last name is Moran. Keep us updated and I think I found a case for us."

"You found a case?" Sherlock asked as he bolted from the sofa and ran over to Sam. He looked over the taller man's shoulder as he read the news report of a mysterious death of a woman who was stabbed to death by the wires in her corset. She was alone at her home with the doors and windows locked.

"The word case to you is like the sound of a can opener to a cat," Sam said.

"I am purring on the inside," Sherlock said as he read the details. "Commerce City Colorado."

"That's about a six hour drive from here," Sam said. "We should pack light."

"Strange death on the inside of a flat," Sherlock said as he placed his hand against his mouth. "Witches or a ghost maybe."

"Those are the two most-"

A scream from the direction of kitchen interrupted Sam. Both he and Sherlock sprung up from the table and raced towards the kitchen to find Kevin lying on the ground. His body seizing, eyes rolled back as his eyelids fluttered and foam like saliva dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

"Kevin!" Sam screamed.

"Fergus!" Sherlock shouted. He knew he had to stand back and let the boy's seizure or rather vision finish before anyone could aid him.

"What is going on?" Fergus demanded and gasped at the sight of Kevin. "Another one."

"This is bad," Sam said as he kneeled down next to Kevin's head. "This is worse than the last one."

"Of course it's worse he's watching a war between all souls and the one remaining angel up there," Fergus said.

"No!" Kevin cried. "No, no, no." He was on his feet within seconds as if an invisible force grabbed him and hoisted him up. "Do not be surprised." His eyes opened and were filled with a bright white glow. "Everyone is locked away. No one can reach me. Try again and they shall be banished as well."

"What does he mean?" Sherlock asked.

"There were two voices coming out of his mouth," Sam said. "One was Metatron's."

"Then that mean's the plan has failed," Sherlock said as Kevin collapsed.


	18. Chapter 17: The Sting

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 17: The Sting_

* * *

"Kevin," Sherlock shouted at the same time as the three of them crowded around the prophet. Sherlock checked the warm sweaty wrist for a pulse. The boy was still alive and breathing.

"Kevin, come on wake up," Sam said as checked to see if Kevin had injured himself externally during his fall.

"Is he going to be all right?" Fergus asked.

"Don't know yet," Sam said. "We have no idea if he is going to be like this for a few minutes, or for a few days, weeks or months even."

"You were out for a week," Sherlock reminded him. He had remembered in assisting Dean in carrying Sam into the Bunker and gently placing him on his bed.

"We can't leave him on the floor," Fergus said.

"I'll get his legs," Sam said. "Sherlock lift his front."

They picked up the Kevin with Fergus placing his hands underneath the middle of the prophet as they carried him back to the sofa and laid him down. Sherlock removed Kevin's shoes and placed his feet on one pillow.

"I'll get him a blanket," Fergus offered.

"Can't just leave him," Sam said.

"The case is only six hours away," Sherlock told him. "We can't just wait for him to wake up. He could be like this for days and weeks."

"We could call Garth," Sam suggested. "He'll phone other hunters and they can go take care of it."

"We are closer to this case than they are."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. "Or you just want to go out and solve another case?"

"I can't just sit around here doing nothing. I would go by myself but I have to keep an eye on you."

"And I'll keep an eye on the boy," Fergus said. "I'm not useless. You two go take care of the ghost or witch and if it is a witch or two then give me a call. I can help you out with that one and I'll make sure Kevin, here gets the rest he needs."

"I don't feel right," Sam said.

"Course you don't," Fergus said. "Sherlock don't feel right leaving him here by himself but he won't be by himself because I'm here. Now you thinking I can't handle things here on my own is a bit insulting to me."

Sam looked at Sherlock who had his hand against his face again, at Kevin who appeared to be sleeping peacefully and Fergus who had a pleading look in his eyes.

"We'll pack our things," Sam said. "But first we'll tell Dean."

"I knew you would see the logic," Sherlock said as he stared at Kevin. He knew he was right about the prophet's welfare, but he was worried still and he refused to admit it.

* * *

_London Two Hours earlier_

Dean tapped his fingers against the dashboard of Greg's van. He had no idea where the detective sergeant gotten it or if it was his own. Those little details didn't matter now, what matters was finding where Sebastian Moran was.

"How was your fishing trip?" Dean asked as he went through the notes in his head.

"Went quite well," Greg said with a smile. "Caught about three and might have caught more if dark clouds didn't swarm overhead, twenty percent chance of rain my arse."

"Were those three good sizes?" Dean asked

"Good size and delicious," Greg said with a grin. "Remind me to invite you three over for a night and I'll cook you up a nice fish dinner."

"Awesome."

"Who are all going in?" Greg asked as he placed the headphones over his ears to test out the sound. Charlie had helped set up the surveillance system in the back of the crowed van.

There were six in the van altogether and while Charlie fine-tuned the equipment and Dean and Greg discussed the details of the sting. John was telling both Cas and Barry about how he was going to propose to his latest girlfriend on their next date

"I was thinking Barry and I would go in as potential hires for this Carrow," Dean explained. He had gone a couple days without shaving and had barely washed his face. He chose to wear his rugged flannel and t-shirt with jeans ensemble. He noted that Barry had also dressed in similar shabby clothes and was just as scruffy and dirty as he was.

From what Charlie was able to crack they found out Carrow was recruiting more hit-men and was going to speak with a leader of a small gang and a professional cat burglar, giving them information on what to steal and who to kill and whatnot. According to his spreadsheet he liked to meet at a pub called The Crown Jewel.

"The rest of us will listen?" Greg asked and slipped the headphones off. "Sound's good, Miss Bradbury."

"You'll be listening," Charlie explained. "Dean wanted me to go in first."

"You're what?" Greg asked as he gave Dean an annoyed look. "You are going to send in her?"

"Hello sexism," Charlie said and gave the former DI a look.

"I thought that way too when the first time we sent her in," Dean explained as he remembered when Charlie snuck in to Dick Roman's office and stole a file for them. "But she can do it. She gets the job done."

"Are you sure you can do this?" Greg asked.

"I did at first, but now I'm not so sure," she said in a thin voice.

"Charlie, I know you can do this," Dean said as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Remember it's like a LARP and you are playing lost American tourist who wants a drink and some directions."

"That's not really a stretch," Charlie said.

"It should come easy to you, your majesty."

"What character has she role-played?" Greg asked. "She was a princess?"

"Princess?" Charlie asked before she rolled her eyes. "pfft I was the queen of Moondor."

"This should be way too easy for you then," Dean said. "Just be adorable, be a little clueless and be American. Essentially be yourself except a clueless version of yourself."

"Stop talking, Dean," Charlie said and went back to checking the equipment.

"If it she says yes than you are all invited," John said. He was holding a small velvet box with a sparkling diamond ring inside. "Although Dean you might want to drug yourself again for the flight."

"I'll be more than happy to fly out for you, Johnny," Dean said. "You know I never got to look at this gal you're serious into. I don't even know here names."

"Here's a picture," John said and held up his phone and a picture of a lovely pale woman with blond hair was smiling back at him. "Her name is Mary, Mary Morstan."

"She's beautiful," Dean said as he tried to picture the invites and the wedding announcement for John and Mary. "Don't name your kids after us."

"What?" John blinked at him.

"Dean and Sam's parents were named John and Mary," Cas explained. "Did you not read the books?"

"Considering how their mere existence made Dean and his brother uncomfortable I chose not to out of respect," John said.

"I appreciate it," Dean said.

"Okay bitches are we just going to sit around with our thumbs up our butts?" Charlie asked. "Everything is working."

"Showtime, Charlie," Cas told her as he slipped a pair of headphones on along with Greg and John.

"Do you have the earpiece?" Greg told her.

"Right here," Charlie pointed to her earpiece. She had made one herself to resemble a fancy dragon earing jewelry that wrapped around her ear. She slipped on her backpack and placed a baseball cap with an image of the Union Jack on it and stepped out of the van.

The five of them watched the camera that was focused on the pub. Mycroft had texted Dean saying he had some men to install cameras to watch the outside while Charlie wore a hidden camera.

"Here she comes," Cas said as Charlie appeared on view. She was looking around before she checked her watch and then looked inside a map before she walked inside.

"Nice acting," John said. "She did look like a lost tourist there."

"A little on the hammy side," Dean commented. "Greg can you pull up some of the inside?"

"Right," Greg said and pressed a button. The shaky image of the inside of the pub was easily seen as Charlie walked around.

"Charlie do you read?" Dean asked softly into the mike.

"I hear you," Charlie answered.

"Turn on the charm."

Charlie walked around and approached several more sleazy looking patrons. She would say hello and ask if they could help her. A few of them just grunted and some of the patrons were pretty drunk. There were a few who leered at her in a way that made Dean want to take a shower and a couple of men who waved her off, mostly due to the game they were watching on TV.

"What about that man?" John asked as he pointed at a more clean-cut man dressed in a clean button down shirt and khakis. He looked like he had showered recently and was only sipping at his bottle of beer slowly as he looked around the room.

"Charlie there is a guy who looks like he would be a manager at the Apple store," Dean said. "Go and talk to him."

Charlie walked over to the man and Dean gave him a good look over, trying to find the clues that Sherlock would find. The man was middle class and he was married for some time. He couldn't quite pinpoint the exact years. There was a folded up piece of paper in his shirt pocket and the paper looked like copy paper so he printed out something, possibly instructions. Dean couldn't see if he was armed or not.

"Hi I think I might have gotten lost," Charlie said. "Well I do want a drink and I got some instructions but they are vague, maybe you-"

"I can't talk now," the man said. His eyes were not on her. He was glancing at the entrance.

"I just want to ask a question," Charlie said.

"I'm expecting someone," the man said in annoyed tone.

"Oh okay. I don't want to ruin your date." Charlie walked away.

"Is that our guy?" Barachiel asked.

"I'd have him pegged," Greg said. "Are you sure you two know what you are doing? This isn't going to be like the case of the triple Sherlocks is it? By the way there are several sightings of him now, all imposters of course."

"This one we all thought out and worked on together, "Cas told him before he turned to face Dean. "I want you to be careful."

"I will stay close to him, brother," Barachiel said as he and Dean left the van.

* * *

Dean counted on blending with the crowd and walking around unnoticed by the crowd as they made their way to the Crown Jewel. He noticed Barachiel was acting a bit to skittish for his liking.

"Ease up on those nerves, Barry," Dean told him. "Nobody here knows who you are."

"They do not know what I am either," Barry

"Just act like a tough guy. You have watched movies and TV shows right?"

"I enjoy visiting the cinema and occasionally watching the telly," Barry said.

"So you have seen shows and flicks where the big bad boss gangster guy had hired muscle?" He waited for the angel to nod. "We are going to be the hired muscle." He paused when they were outside the bar. "Testing one and two do you read me wolves' den?"

"We read you," John said on the other end.

"We are about to go in," Dean said.

"You two be careful," John warned.

The Crown Jewel felt musty and the air was stale inside. The whole place reeked of beer, sweat and the floor of the men's room. Dean made a note to himself to not visit the men's room here. A few people looked up at the two of them, including the polo man and Charlie who only looked for a second before glancing away.

Dean strode up the bar and before a single word exited his mouth Barachiel thumped his fist on the counter.

"Two pints." He ordered.

"What kind?" The Bartender asked? He was in his early forties, five o'clock shadow and receding brown hair.

"What's on tap?"

"Speckled Hen," the bartender said. "Is that all right?"

"It will wet our whistles for now," Barry said. "Got a bit of business to deal with."

"Watch your fucking mouth," Dean growled. "Gotta find the money first."

"Money?" The bartender asked.

"Guy who might hire us," Dean explained. "Term we use in the States."

"Seeing as you blokes will be here for a while I'll start a tab on you," the bartender said and filled two mugs with beer before he handed it to them.

"Thanks," Barry grabbed his mug and did a double take. He stared at the barkeep in the eyes. "Ishim?"

"Oh, you're one of the big archangel's."

"Whoa," Dean said and dropped his voice. "He's an angel too?"

"Not like me," Barry said.

"No shit," the barkeep said. "You two are working on something and I got customers."

"What was that about?" John's voice came through the ear piece.

"Angel business," Dean explained before he took a sip from his mug. It wasn't bad at all. He walked over to the table where polo man said and sat down.

"I believe you are expecting us," Barry said as he sat down next to Dean.

"It all depends on the rain," polo man said and looked like he was waiting for something.

"The rain falls all the time," Dean said as he remembered the code Charlie had given him. "Even on a clear day."

"And have you read the papers?" Polo man asked.

"Only during dinner," Barry answered as he recited the second code.

"Should we walk afterwards?"

"I believe the subway would be better," Dean said before he smacked himself. "Damn it. I meant the tube. I believe the tube would be better."

"That is forgivable," Poloman said and leaned forward. "Although no one told me one of you would be American."

"I was the one who told him about the job," Barry said. "He saved my life once from a rival assassin and from getting stabbed by a Yakuza member."

"Barry here busted me out this one joint in Philly," Dean explained. "The two of us are tighter than leather pants and if you think we are sucking off each other I will break your fucking face."

"No one is implying anything," Poloman said. "How are you with rifles?"

"I can shoot a petal off a daisy from 1000 yards away and 2000 yards up," Dean bragged. "And Barry here, if you tell Barry to shoot a bullet on the freckle of the back of the neck of a mark he would do it."

"Don't need to be pompous about it. Here is what I want you to do. I have two separate marks, now they are supposed to be watching over this old woman. One is watching over Islington where she likes to shop and the other is watching over where she lives. "

"You want us to cap these guys in case they do the old broad in?" Dean asked.

"I want you to kill them if they fail to kill the woman," poloman said and noticed their confused expression. "They are given a signal to kill this woman and are still waiting for the signal. If they fail or if they interact with the woman then I want you to shoot them."

"How much are we going to be paid?"

"Better yet how do we know you aint going to hire some assholes to watch over us to shoot us in case we don't shoot the other assassins?"

"I feel it won't come to that, but the boss wants to insure everything goes down. He is paranoid that the number one mark might possibly still be alive. I'm not sure if he is or not but if he is then three targets are going to die."

"Okay, Mr. Polo," Dean said. He was certain Lestrade had enough to bust this guy. "What do we call you?"

"Mr. Polo will do."

"Greg thinks we are not going to get more out of him," John said. "He made a call to Sally and the coppers are on their way."

"Is the pay good?" Barry asked. "I once did a job that promised a good payout. I barely made two thousand pounds. I don't do anything less than five."

"You will get ten thousand p-"

"Hands in the air," several officers shouted as the pub was flooded by the cops. They swarmed in on Mr. Polo and were slapping the cuffs on him.

"Hey," Dean said as he was being frisked. "We are with you guys. Lestrade paid us. You can ask Donovan."

"You two set me up," Mr. Polo snarled at them. "I should have known when one of you was American."

"You don't think we got dishonest dirtbags on our side of the pond?" Dean asked and glanced back to the bar where he had seen Charlie. She was no longer waiting for them.

"Let those two go," Greg Lestrade said as he walked into the bar. "They are working for me."

"You two are on my list," Polo snarled.

"What list is that, Carrow?" Barry asked.

"How," Polo asked and froze.

"Did you see that reaction?" Dean asked and pointed at the man. "He was about to admit he was Carrow."

"I saw enough," Greg said and crossed his arms. "Good job you two."

"Couldn't have done it without you," Dean said and looked at Barry who was listening to his earpiece for a few seconds. He seemed devastated. "What's wrong? We got the job done."

"Your brother called Cas," Barry said. "The plan to overthrow Metatron had failed."


	19. Chapter 18: Follow the Crumbs

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 18:Follow The Crumbs_

* * *

_Commerce City, Colorado_

Every time Sherlock walked into a morgue whether it was an official morgue or part of a hospital or the forensics department of the police he was reminded of Molly. The scent of disinfectant, the brilliant almost glowing white appearance of the walls ceilings and floors, the gleam of the sterile silver instruments all reminded him of Molly. He could not get her out of his mind when he walked into morgues and every time he was on a hunt and had to speak to a pathologist he half expected Molly to enter the room or be there waiting for him.

"Hello?" Sam greeted when they walked into the morgue and looked around for the pathologist. He usually was the one who did the greeting.

"Oh hello," a woman who was clearly not Molly had greeted them. It was never Molly of course and Sherlock had no idea why he was disappointed about that. "I'm Dr. O'Leary."

"I'm agent Solinger with the FBI," Sam said and indicated Sherlock. "And this is Agent Bach."

"I wasn't expecting the FBI," the pathologist said. She was new to the job, mid-twenties and Middle Eastern. She was pretty and slim and was smiling at them. Her focus was mostly on Sam.

"They usually don't," Sam said and held up the file they were given earlier at the sheriff's office. "We need to see the body of Karen Hanover."

"Do you think she was murdered?" O'Leary said.

"New to the job and sadly off the market," Sherlock stated.

"How did you know?" O'Leary asked.

"You happen to be in your mid-twenties," Sherlock said as he maintained his southern drawl. "At such a young age you have recently graduated medical school. The lab coat is clearly new, despite the small coffee stain on the lapel. The stain was made a few days ago and you have washed it and used bleach but you need to change brands. The coat is new and you are still wearing quite a bit of makeup. There is mascara, eyeliner, foundation, eye shadow and lipstick. Those who have been in the professional for a while know they do not need to impress anyone and barely apply even lipstick."

"And for me being married?" O'Leary asked with her eyebrows raised.

"O'Leary is an Irish name and you do not look Irish, unless you were adopted but even if you were you one can tell you are married despite the ring on your finger. There is a band on your finger, paler in tone than the rest of your skin. I see a small bulge in the pocket of your lab coat; yes that is where the ring is. That signifies you are deeply in love with your husband as you want to keep your ring safe and clean while you work."

"I can see why you're with the FBI," O'Leary said. "And yes my husband is of Irish decent and my parents immigrated when they were children from Jordan."

"Karen Hanover?" Sam asked again.

"Of course," O'Leary said and pulled out a body from one of the cold chambers.

One glance at the corpse at Sherlock could tell the age of Hanover, her occupation as a high school counselor and the fact she lived with a flatmate and had two cats. Of course he learned it earlier from the police file they collected from the authorities but he would still be able to tell on his own and the police file had no mention of the cats.

"I have some work to do in the office," O'Leary said as she walked out of the lab.

"Let's wheel her out over here," Sam said as he was about to grab a wheeled table.

"No need," Sherlock said dropping the accent. "Your country is full of idiots; of course England has her fair share of those who are slow witted."

"What is it this time?" Sam sighed.

"The fact that they so easily buy the lie that we are federal agents," Sherlock said as he examined the lacerations on the corpse.

"Not all of them," Sam said as he examined the body in a similar manner.

"Most do and even when they question your believability then a simple quick phone call to Garth and they believe him."

"We really did a better job at making the badges authentic after that psycho LARPer pointed it out."

"Not the badges," Sherlock said and flicked the ends of Sam's hair with his finger. "How is it they always not notice the most obvious detail and give away? Do you have some sort of magic cloaking spell that makes them not see the hair?"

"Dean has said the same before," Sam said with a laugh. "And Bobby, and Cas, and Kevin and Charlie. I never know why nobody has mentioned that before."

"It's simple. They are all idiots." He brought his own magnifying glass to his eye. "Ah. The way these lacerations were made by wire slicing through the flesh at a high velocity. It seems the wires snapped at the same time and snapped inward."

"I don't know of any ghosts that can do that," Sam said. "We have never seen anything like this before."

"Witches then?"

"Most likely."

"Then it is time to speak with the flatmate."

* * *

The flat that Karen Hanover had lived in appeared to have been similar to most flats that were shared by two people. There was the standard furniture, sofa, chairs, telly, coffee table, lamps and bookshelves. There were framed photographs, and artwork on the wall, some of it appeared to have been procured from small shops or purchased from art students.

"She loved Ren Fairs," the flatmate said. She was a young black woman, medical student and barista. She was still in shock from having discovered her flatmate and possibly friend's dead body. "She was always getting new corsets from them. I told her they were binding. I was of the belief that wearing one is unhealthy I had no idea it would kill her like that."

"No one does," Sherlock said. He bit down on his tongue to keep from insulting her.

"Can we see here room?" Sam asked.

"Still taped up," Shawna said. "If you excuse me I'm going to grab a few things before I head to my sister's. I can't sleep here, even if they clean up the room I still can't sleep here."

"We understand," Sam said softly. "We are very sorry for your loss."

"Extremely sorry," Sherlock added and wondered if John felt the same about their flat after he believed that Sherlock had killed himself. He wondered if John or Mrs. Hudson herself went inside the first few months at all. He could see John sitting in his chair and staring silently for hours at the chair where Sherlock had preferred to sit.

"Robert?" Sam asked and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Sorry. I was deep in thought."

"What else are you ever deep in?" Sam asked as they headed towards Karen's room

"Trouble it would appear." He paused for a few seconds while Sam chuckled and he joined in.

"You have been with us way too long." Sam opened the door to Karen's room and nearly had to get down onto his hands and knees in order to duck under the yellow tape.

Sherlock had to do the same and almost envied John's lack of height at that moment. Certainly his friend would have had an easier time to duck under low ceilings and beams without bumping his head. Then again John's shorter legs did have to struggle to keep up with Sherlock and had a harder time of climbing over things.

The room was almost clean. There were a few book cases in the room and not a single book was out of place. There was a brush laid neatly down next to the alarm clock radio on the night stand, along with a pair of glasses and a watch. There was a white chair in one corner that had a cushion and a few stuffed animals on it. Not a single garment of clothing was on the floor, nor any dispersed magazines, or food wrappers and there was not a single dish left in the room, save for the small saucer that was on top of the dresser and it was currently in use to catch the wax drippings from the scented candle that had been already lit a few times.

The bed was made and it would have looked as immaculate as the rest of the room if it were not for the fact that it was soaked with blood. A large reddish brown stain occupied most of the bed and from how deep the wires had cut Sherlock was certain the blood soaked through the duvet and into the blanket and sheets and into the mattress underneath.

"Time to look for the hex bag," Sam said as he handed Sherlock a pair of latex gloves.

Sam searched the bed and Sherlock looked through her closet. He pushed back every hanging shirt, dress, skirt, shorts and trousers and searched every pocket. He examined her shoes that she had on the floor. There were five pairs all lined up neatly. There were also a few weights and the flatmate did say she liked to work out. There was also a box in one corner. Sherlock looked through it and came up with plastic and rubber bats on strings, a large plastic pumpkin and orange and black vinyl words that spelled out both Happy Halloween and Trick or Treat.

"Did you find anything, Sam?" Sherlock shouted.

"I found the hex bag," Sam said. "Inside her book case, but there is something else."

"I agree," Sherlock said as he found another box and this one was not filled with any holiday decorations. There were bags of teeth, feathers and bones that were neatly separated, vials marked with labels such as tetrodotoxin, goat blood, ground snake fangs, and wolfsbane. There were ornate black knives that were wrapped in leather, rune stones, a mortar and pestle and more candles.

"Sherlock?" Sam called out to him.

"I found this," Sherlock said as he brought the box out from the closet and set it down on the floor. He held up a few of the vials and some of the bags.

"And I found this," Sam said as he held out two books. Both of them were leather bound, one had Latin writing and the other Celtic. "She was a witch."

"Did she anger her coven?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't know if it is just a rival witch, or a jilted lover, or even her coven, or a rival coven."

"Coven gang war, well that is something new."

"For both of us," Sam added. "I can hear Dean now."

"Last time I encountered a witch I changed bodies with your brother," Sherlock couldn't help but to smile at that memory. "Opened my eyes to this world of yours."

"As always I have to say I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I actually enjoy this work. I still wish for my old life, but I enjoy this."

"Dean used to be that way, at least until that truck hit us. There are some cases he enjoys, but there are times when he wants to get out of the life." Sam opened the book and flipped through the pages. "He came close a few times."

"One of them being my life," Sherlock placed his hands behind his head. "Some might feel that is depressing that my old life seemed normal compared to his."

"Solving normal human murders that are caused by humans is normal," Sam said and closed the book. He was about to put it away when he noticed a scrap of paper that was on the floor that clearly wasn't there before.

Both Sherlock and Sam reached for the paper at the same time with Sherlock snatching it up first. Sherlock unfolded the paper, noting that it was ripped from an old envelope before he read the contents.

"Baking class on Wednesday at five at Judy's."

"We got over three hours," Sam said. "Now we have to find out where."

They examined the rest of the flat and found a small personal phone number and address book next to the phone in the kitchen. There was only one Judy and she lived five miles away. There was plenty of time to prepare some forms of protection for themselves.

* * *

Dull, boring, dull, insipid, lack of originality were the words that flooded through Sherlock's mind as Sam parked the car in the residential neighborhood that was full of houses that were the same five designs that were repeated with the only differences were the paint and roof and of course the plants in the yard.

"These neighborhoods here all the same," Sherlock complained as they stepped out of the car. "In every city and state all the houses look the same.

"I've seen some of the neighborhoods in your country," Sam said as he led Sherlock up the path to the house. "All those houses right next to each other and attached. Now I know why London burned."

"Yes I do see the reasoning why there are spaces between the houses. I just wish they weren't so dull."

"Who says you have to live in those?" Sam asked. He jiggled the handle to the door and when it didn't open he pulled out a pick. "I thought you would be easier to bring along on cases than Dean, but you annoy me just as much as he does."

"Don't be a fool."

"You insist on listening to your music all the time, always have to eat Chinese whenever we get any form of take out, keep on using my laptop and always make me do the research when I know you enjoy seeking out knowledge and looking up stuff as well."

"One I only listen to my music when I am driving," Sherlock said. "You remember what the rules of the road are. I have tried the tacos before and after spending a whole evening in the loo I do not want to repeat that and my laptop is long gone and I only seek out information that is actually useful."

"And I don't?"

"You pick up residual facts that cloud that dull little mind of yours."

"Jerk."

"Idiot." Sherlock could see why Dean enjoyed this game with Sam and watched the younger man as he opened the door and pulled back in pain.

"What is wrong?"

"This place makes me feel extremely uncomfortable, almost painful but not quite."

"Hmmm." Sherlock pursed his lips as he gave the house a closer and more thorough inspection. He ran his fingers over the door frame and the nearest window frame and found nothing. He pulled back the edge of the welcome mat and found an angelic warding symbol painted on the cement. "Do witches usually paint these on their premises?"

"Not often," Sam said as Sherlock pulled out his pocket knife and extracted the blade. "Some might because they are paranoid and don't trust angels and I don't really blame them. We believed the witch who put you and Dean back had a few somewhere at her place."

"There might be more," Sherlock said as he used the edge of the blade to make a fine almost hair thin scratch through the symbol. He placed the mat over it.

"There might be more," Sam said as he and Sherlock looked around. He pulled back a few branches of a bush against the side of the house and found another and he used his knife to scratch through.

It took them nearly a half hour and found ten more of the sigils that they scratched through. Sherlock had strong feeling it was not because the witch or witches had a simple distrust of the angels. They were working with the demons.

"I know why Karen was murdered," Sherlock said as Sam opened the door and did not even flinch this time. Sherlock filed that fact into his mind to explore later. He also remembered there were times when Sam felt tired while in the bunker and looked like he was suffering from indigestion when he entered the Bunker. "The warding sigils were the final proof that I needed. They are working with demons and Karen-"

"Opposed what they were doing," Sam interrupted when he came to the same conclusion. "They are either working with demons or trying to summon a demon or trying to free a very powerful demon."

The first thing that greeted Sherlock's nose was the scent of chocolate and raspberries and reminded him of Mrs. Hudson's kitchen when she was baking a cake, or a torte, or a soufflé. He wondered if they were actually having a baking class after all. Or maybe it was just a cover, or they could possibly baking and performing spells.

The second scent was a bit on the spicy side. It was the scent of incense burning and as he looked around the house he could see the thread like trail of smoke. He signaled to Sam with his thumb and followed after the trail.

There were a group of five young women gathered around a coffee table, seated on various cushions and holding their hands together. Their eyes were closed and the incense that was burning. They were chanting Latin and the words sound like a prayer.

"I just can't believe she's gone," one of them said once they broke free. She wiped away her tears with her thick fingers

"Why Karen?" Another woman asked. "I just don't understand." She seemed older than the others with skin the color of toasted almond and dark hair that reached her shoulders.

"I do," Sam said as he walked up to them. He didn't break stride even when the girls jumped up out of fear and confusion.

"How did you get in here?" One girl asked as she picked up her pink framed glasses.

"Why are you here?" Another asked. She was dressed in the stereotypical Goth fashion with dark purple blouse, black skirt, black belt with a spikey buckle. She had fishnet fingerless gloves that ended at her elbows, three piercings on each lobe and two loops around the tops of her ears, too much mascara and eyeliner, blood red lipstick and several silver rings.

"One of you killed Karen," Sam said as he stared down each one of them.

"One of us?"

"How could you say such a thing?"

"We loved Karen."

Sherlock drowned out their voices as he studied each one for body language, and their faces for emotion. He could tell if their tears were true. He could tell if one of them felt guilty, or even showed no remorse.

"One of you witches used your magic to curse her," Sam accused and pointed to one of them. She was the eldest by a few years with dark red hair cut in a pixie cut and wore a simple white knit vest over her blue blouse. "Was it you?"

"No, as the leader of this coven I made sure everyone swore to not use magic for evil," the woman said.

"Well one of you broke the rule," Sam said as he continued to look at them and pace around them. "Perhaps it was you." He grabbed the shoulder of one who was still crying hysterically.

"Her?" the Goth witch asked. "She can't do anything by herself. She needs the rest of us."

"So it was you," Sam pointed at her.

Sherlock studied the three were just accused by Sam. The first was the leader and she was honest about her rule, the second did seem like a blubbering idiot. She was the type that was easily intimidated. It was not her. The third was angry at Sam but she was also saddened by the loss of their friend. He looked at the girl with pink glasses and froze. He expected to see a bored expression, he expected crocodile tears, he expected to see guilt and annoyance that she was about to be caught. What he didn't expect was to see a pleased and satisfied expression as if she wanted him and Sam to be there.

"Oh stupid, stupid, stupid," Sherlock's voice rose. "I should have seen this coming. I should have expected this."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"She didn't kill because she wanted Karen out of the way," Sherlock said as he pointed at the one young woman, eyes that were bright green and dark hair. "Karen was just a random target. She was the bait to lure us here."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Damn," the accused said. "You are good." Her eyes turned black. "Just not fast enough." She smiled as several long streams of dark smoke wafted into the house and forced their way down the throats of the members of the coven, all but one of them had dark eyes and the last remaining demon made a U-turn.

"She has a tattoo," Sherlock said as he stared at the pudgy girl with pigtails.

"Why the hell did you get one, Stacy?" The now possessed coven leader asked.

"I saw it in a book and thought it looked cool," Stacy said as she slowly backed away.

"Looks like you are out of the coven," the leader said and made a gesture with her hand.

Stacy's head turned suddenly and there was a snap before her body fell to the ground.

"And for you two," the leader said and raised her hand.

Sherlock and Sam rose several feet in the air and Sherlock was surprised that he didn't feel someone raising him by his throat.

"Our leader wants you both alive for now," the coven leader said. "Well girls?"

Several of the possessed witches swarmed them and when they were lowered to the ground they placed their hands on Sherlock's and Sam's foreheads. The one girl with pink glasses stabbed at them both with a needle.

"The hell?" Sam asked as the room started to melt.

"They drugged us," Sherlock said as he fought hard to stay awake. "They want to take us somewheeeereee…" He barely finished his sentence before everything turned dark.


	20. Chapter 19: Dance With the Devil

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 19: Dance with the Devil_

* * *

_Commerce City, Colorado_

Sherlock woke up from his forced slumber feeling angry at himself for falling for such a trap. He should have researched the area more thoroughly or he should have just peered through the windows, or snuck in the house and stayed in the shadows. He would have noticed the one demon and informed Sam before they made their plan of action.

"Sherlock?" Sam addressed him. His voice was still groggy.

"This is my fault," Sherlock said as he opened his eyes. He could tell from the scent of cement, of old cardboard boxes and a musty odor that they were in a basement, most likely the basement of the house they were in and when he opened his eyes he could see that they were. There were several people standing around, demons and there were twice as many as those in the coven. He was also sitting in a chair, arms at his side and bound tight. He was tied to a chair, again. This was getting dull.

"How?" Sam asked. "Any hunter could have fallen for it. I've been hunting for a long time, about as long as you have been solving mysteries at least and I fell for it."

"I am not stupid," Sherlock said and sighed. "I'm not supposed to be stupid." He looked down at duct tape wrapped around his chest and arms and binding him to a chair. "And once again I am tied to a chair."

"We both are," Sam said. "It happens every now and then."

"Twice in one week for me."

"Oh good you both are awake," the coven leader said as she walked up to them. "I was getting bored waiting around and doing nothing."

"How long until your boss arrives?" Sherlock asked. There was only one reason why he and Sam were taken to the basement and tied to chairs. The new leader of the demons was going to speak with them, possibly gloat before they would be killed.

"I don't know," the girl said and glanced at her watch. "Looks like we all have to freaking wait."

"I have a pretty good idea on who it is," Sam said." And I know why she wants us tied up like this." There is only one demon that Sam could be talking about like that and only one female they knew by name that they have tangled with before and was still alive.

"And I'm pretty sure you are right, Sam," the high male voice was probably a surprise to Sam, but it caused Sherlock's skin to crawl. "I was hoping to catch both you and your brother. Hello boys."

"No," Sherlock gasped.

"Who is that?" Sam asked.

"What's wrong Sammy?" James Moriarty asked as he walked down the stairs, still wearing the same suit he wore when he shot himself. "You don't recognize me?" He stretched out his arms for a second before dropping them and losing his smile. "Of course you don't. I had to go into the store room and use this since you torched my last outfit."

"Moriarty," Sherlock growled. "Either you faked your death and are working with these demons or you happened to have already become one. Crowley said he was saving your body for you."

"You think I'm the original owner?" Moriarty asked and glanced down at himself. "Sorry Sunshine but he's still changing although he will be one of us soon and once the transformation is complete he can have this back. Of course now that I'm in charge it will be sooner now that I'm restoring Hell to what it should be. I don't mind wearing it, but I prefer women suits. I did enjoy being a hot red head and I looked good in jeans and leather."

"Abaddon," Sam said slowly.

"You finally remembered," the demon rolled his eyes. "It wasn't bad enough that you cut me up and stitched me back together, but you had to burn my old suit. You ruined that shirt I had. I loved that shirt. It was the first thing that I found in this century that I enjoyed, the second being the technology."

"Moriarty's flesh has power," Sherlock said. "You want to regain control of his network from Sebastian Moran."

"I can rule both hell and a criminal empire," Abaddon said with a smile. "It will be the first step in taking over this mud hole." He and grabbed Sherlock by the chin. "Now I know who you are. You were his nemesis. I was just going to kill you myself but maybe I might save you for him as a nice little rebirthday present." He released his hold. "Now where is Dean? I still have plans for his body."

"Not in town," Sam answered. "In fact you either have to swim or fly to find him."

"I can wait, but you will do for now." He breathed in deeply. "Now I have to decide if I just want to kill you quickly here, or drag your whole body to hell and torture you there."

"It took you nearly the equivalent of a hundred years to take control of Hell," Sherlock said as he glanced around the room, looking for a means of escape. "It didn't take Crowley that long."

"That treacherous little salesman is gone," Abaddon snapped. "Your friend sought to that. He is out of the picture."

"It bothers you that so many of your fellow demons were willing to follow him," Sherlock continued.

"That's right," Sam added. "The only one who didn't follow him was Meg, and she's gone." There was a slight edge of sadness to his voice.

"I know of who you speak," Abaddon said with a smile. "She is a good soldier. They told me all about her and I can overlook the fact that she sided along with you Winchester on the account you were fighting against both Crowley and leviathans. I knew she would backstab you at the first chance she got."

"He was a moron but he never underestimated Sam and Dean," Sherlock said as he stared at the others before he glanced at Abaddon. Jim Moriarty unnerved him when he was still alive and seeing the consulting criminal's face being worn by a powerful demon unnerved him even more.

"Hell has gone south in my absence," Moriarty said in an annoyed tone. "I have no idea how that happened but I can put most of the blame on him. I know who was in control before him. Azazel and Lilith were powerful, true warriors of the true king."

"Until the Winchester brothers killed them," Sherlock answered.

"You are trying to think of a way to escape," the demon leader said as his eyes flicked around. "Too bad for you but there is no escape."

"Sir Abaddon," a demon said as it raced down the stairs. "I have some news." He whispered into the demon leader's ear.

"All of them have been damaged?" Abbadon asked. He was trying to hide it but Sherlock could hear the worry in his voice. "We will have to make this quick, then."

"You are going to have to leave," the demon underling said. "I believe they are circling the house."

Abaddon grabbed the underling by the throat and pulled him closer to his face. "How would they know where to look?"

"There were rumors they were close."

"You let them follow you," Abaddon growled. "You let them follow you!" He turned to glare at both Sherlock and Sam before he disappeared.

"That was close," Sam said a few minutes after Abaddon had left.

"You know why he left," Sherlock whispered to him as he scanned the room again

"Something spooked her, er him." Sam shook his head.

"There are new people gathering outside," Sherlock said as he continued to study the demons that appeared to be just confused. "Now I wonder who was the real bait, that poor girl or us."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked as he shook his arm. He was almost out of his bonds.

"What is the one thing that can scare a demon? You don't see it? This is the reason why there were wards outside the house and that one possessed girl was the one who put them there. The paint for the symbols was slapped on and barely dry."

"Angels are coming," Sam said when he finally caught on as he pulled his arm out.

"Angels are coming?" One of the demons repeated in a worried tone. "When?"

The door to the basement flew open and several men and women ran down the steps with their silver blades brandished.

"Now," Sam answered

"Of course they didn't see them coming," Sherlock said as he finally felt his bonds becoming loose. "It is true that demons were once humans, they are just as idiotic as them."

"Why are the angels here?" Sam asked as he shook off his binds. "Where they trying to locate Abaddon?"

"That would be the most likely reason," Sherlock said as he reached down to untie the ropes that kept his ankles secure to the legs of the chairs.

Chaos surrounded them as the demons and angels fought against each other. Several angels were able to either stab the demons in the neck or chest, or place their hands on their foreheads while some of the demons were able to slay a few angels with their own blades.

One blade from a dead angel clattered across the ground and landed about a foot away from Sherlock. He pounced on it and grabbed one of the coven members by the shoulder and shoved the blade through her throat.

"Maybe we should get out of the way," Sam said. "I was warned this was not the type a fight a human wants to be a part of and personally I don't want to help the angels out any more than I want to help the demons."

"No," Sherlock told him and located another demon that was battling sword to sword with another angel. He ran towards the two and stabbed the demon in the back.

Sherlock could understand Sam's reasoning. He had been played for the fool by both demons and angels, and tortured and threatened by both as well. He was counting on both sides destroying each other, or if one side was still left standing their numbers would be next to nothing and would be easier to kill.

Another demon was killed not far from where Sherlock was standing and it was a demon that held onto an angel sword. Sherlock removed it from the death grip of the body and tossed it towards Sam.

His body tensed up when he felt the grip of someone or rather something on his throat and he shifted his view towards the demon that held him.

The demon's grin was erased when a bright orange flash erupted in his face and the chest was the tip of the blade broke through.

An angel watched along with Sherlock as the body collapsed. The angel blinked before turning towards the fray.

There were only three demons left and they raised their heads and opened their mouths before dark smoke flew out. The smoke like demons had only begun to leave their host's body when several angels pounced on them and forced the demons back into the humans before they were eradicated.

The floor of the basement was littered with bodies. There were a few that were still breathing at the result of the angelic touch that killed the demons inside. There were only six angels remaining.

"It is true," one of the angels said in a pleased tone. He had three days' worth of facial hair and was dressed in a suit with a tie covered in polka dots. "He is on the side of the angels."

"Inias?" Sam asked as he had recognized the angel.

"It is I, Sam Winchester."

"You have run into this one before," Sherlock stated. "You are not upset or frightened, or angry though."

"Inias is pretty decent compared to other angels," Sam said.

"Your compliments have no place here," another angel said. He had short dark hair, blue eyes and also wore a dark suit.

"And you are no longer needed here," Sherlock told them. "Your quarry had left; perhaps you should try and improve your skills of stealth."

"What did you say, insect?" The same angel asked as he glared at Sherlock.

"You heard me. I have told you Abaddon had escaped and maybe if you had done a better job the new king or queen of hell would be in your hands."

"You have a lot of nerve to speak to me like that."

"Kushiel, please," Inias said as he stood between the two. "This human is famous. He does work for the greater good. He has been given a gift."

"That does not impress me," Kushiel said as he shoved past Inias. "And you are wrong. This was not a trap to bait Abaddon, capturing that filth would have been a nice bonus, but we let the demons play, thinking they would get their hands on the Winchesters. We followed them so we can have Sam Winchester."

"You cannot have him," Sherlock said as he stood in front of his friend.

"They want me to complete the last trial," Sam said.

"Your friend is a smoker," Kushiel said as he studied Sherlock. "Let's see how he feels with an advanced case of emphysema." He snapped his fingers.

Sherlock couldn't breathe. He tried taking in deep gasps but barely managed to get any air in. He lowered himself to his knees as he continued to struggle to breath.

"Now I can cure him," Kushiel said. His face was devoid of expression.

"But only if I agree to go with you," Sam said. He took one look at the direction of the stairs and then stared at Sherlock.

Sherlock tried to warn Sam not to agree, but through is gasps he could not get a word out and only could reach out to Sam with his palm facing out.

"Fine," Sam said and closed his eyes.

Sherlock was able to take a deeper breath. He was still wheezing but he didn't feel like he was going to die.

"You said you would cure him," Inias said.

"That is only part of the deal," Kushiel informed him. "Tell us where the half demon lives."

"I am not telling you where he is," Sam said and crossed his arms. "The deal was that I would go with you."

"Instead of killing your friend outright he will live for only five more years like this," Kushiel said. "Tell us where Crowley is."

"Don't," Sherlock gasped and tried to breathe in. "Tell him." He wheezed.

"You won't be able to get in," Sam said. "We have the place protected from angels as well as pure demons."

"I know," Sherlock gasped. "How to..." Another gasp. "Restore your…wings."

"Don't tell them anything," Sam said.

"Is this true?" Inias asked and when Sherlock nodded he grabbed Kushiel by the arm. "We can't kill him."

"He could be lying," Kushiel said. "Your friend will continue to suffer, Sam Winchester. Where is Crowley?"

"I'm not telling you where he was living," Sam said and sighed. "I can call him and have him meet with us. I am willing to complete the trial." He pulled out his phone.

"Fair enough," Kushiel said and raised a finger.

Sherlock was able to breath clearly again. He stood up and was about to walk over to Sam to smack the phone out of his hand when he felt his own arm being grabbed from behind.

"Is it true?" Inias asked.

"Sam and I both know of one task that your kind must take," Sherlock said. "But the prophet only informed me of the last two completely."

"And this will restore our wings?" a female angel asked hopefully. She had almond shaped eyes the color of stormy sea and dark wavy hair that fell to her lower back.

"You wings will grow back," Sherlock said. "You will be able to fly once more and you will be able to return to Heaven, restore your connection and destroy the angel that did this to you."

"What if the third trial is not a success?" the same woman asked.

"We have to hope it is, Ariel," Inias said.

"Sam will not have to complete the trial," Sherlock informed them. "Take me instead and I will tell you how." He paused to lick his lips. "You will also need a human for the final task and I volunteer for that role."

"Fergus or Crowley as he was once known is going to meet us at the Minimart on Pine here in Colorado," Sam explained. "He's going to take the bus, so it will be a few hours."

"I see," Kushiel said as he stared at Sherlock.

"There is another way," Ariel piped up. "The prophet has translated the angel tablet and informed them." She pointed at both Sam and Sherlock. "They know how we can restore our wings."

"But Sherlock Holmes only knows of the third task," Inias added.

"Take me instead," Sherlock stated. "You do not need Sam."

"No," Sam told him. "I already agreed to complete the trial."

"And I also agreed to go with them," Sherlock said.

"This is quite noble of both of you," Kushiel said. "But I have made my choice."

"And?" Sam asked.

"We are going to take both of you."

Sherlock felt his tongue go numb as several angels grabbed him by the arms and dragged him, along with Sam out of the basement.


	21. Chapter 20: Talk to Me

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 20: Talk to Me_

* * *

_London_

Dean was exhausted with all the leg work he had been doing, but he couldn't get any rest just yet. He had to find out where Sebastian Moran was hiding and they have their best lead on where the bastard was in the hands of Scotland Yard. He was not going to miss out on the interrogation and plan on asking a few questions himself once he had showered, shaved and changed into the monkey suit.

He knew several officers might recognize him and many probably know him as one of the fake Sherlock's who waltzed in before but he and the others had fabricated a cover story for that little stunt. They had Garth type up the paper work and instructions stating they, at least Dean and Cas, were federal officers following orders to go undercover and disguise themselves as Sherlock Holmes. It was a cover story as ridiculous as Dean's plan but Dean could argue that they do not have the most conventional bosses and he sometimes worries what his odd director was going to do.

The biggest road block to that was in the form of DI Sally Donovan who likes to do things by the book. So did Special Agent Hendrickson although he was going out of his way to try and apprehend Dean and Sam, and after being possessed by a demon he understood. Donovan knows the supernatural is real. She just doesn't quite understand the some of the tricks and the lies that hunters tell and pull in order to proceed in their investigation, although Dean had a feeling she was softening up on that aspect.

"Federal officer," Dean greeted everyone in the building with those two words and flashed a badge before he made his way towards Donovan's office. He wanted to be there for the interrogation.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Anderson asked as Dean walked by one of the doors. He had a folder under his arm and was wearing a suit.

"Orders from my field director," Dean answered.

"You are not really a federal agent," Anderson said smugly.

"If you are implying my little stunt then that was also under orders," Dean said and rubbed his head. "I admit I was enjoying it a bit too much, but it was not my idea. It was Director Cameron who gave us the orders. Just count your blessings that you don't work for such a weirdo."

"You expect me to believe that rubbish?"

"Believe what you want to believe but the official paperwork is on the desk of DI Donovan's office. It was a little slow in getting here and you can read up on it if you want, after all you two seem close." He tried not to smile when Anderson flinched. Looks like Sherly was right about the two of them.

"I'll talk to her," Anderson said and stared him up and down. "I still don't understand why you are going through all this trouble to help clear his name."

"My weirdo director fan-boys him," Dean answered.

"Even if you are under orders you seem to be really driven."

"Fine, I'll admit it," Dean sighed. "I was deeply in love with Sherlock Holmes and we went on a few dates and he is an amazing kisser."

"Now that I know is a lie."

"Got me there." Dean held up his index finger before he made his way down the hall.

Greg Lestrade had stepped out of Donovan's office as Dean approached it. The Detective Sergeant seemed pleased to see Dean.

"The paperwork from this Garth had come in," Greg said. "Everything has been confirmed."

"Is Donovan buying it?" Dean asked.

"She is willing to accept it," Greg said and motioned for Dean to follow him. "She is not going to be happy to see you though and I'm not sure if it's because of who you really are, because she is helping Holmes even though it is postmortem help, or if it's because she knows that ghosts and demons and monsters are real now."

"Still going through the motions with that information," Dean said. "Where is she?"

"Interrogation," Greg answered. "I doubt Carrow is going to tell us anything that might be useful."

"But you plan on putting him through the verbal wringer anyway and if he won't talk then your officers sweeping his apartment might find something."

"And if they can't find anything then your friend Charlie will find it on Carrow's computer."

"She has yet to let me down," Dean confirmed. They had reached an agreement that Dean would go alone to Scotland Yard and Cas and Charlie would investigate the home of Carrow and confiscate his hard drive. They had badges for the both of them and Charlie was posing as Agent Benetar.

Greg led Dean to a room with a two way mirror. Dean could see into the other room that had a comfortable looking couch, table and two chairs. On their side were a few nice looking chairs and a table that had a couple steaming cups of coffee. Detective Inspector Donovan looked up at them as they entered.

"How should I address you?" Donovan asked.

"Agent Kiedas," Dean answered. "I am going by the same name as last time." He took a deep breath. "I know this has been hard for you the past few days with finding out everything is real and everything that you once believed was wrong. I know it's hard for everyone."

"You have been doing this for a while," Donovan said without looking up. "Assuring people and do you remember what life was like before you knew what was out there?"

"I do." He closed his eyes as he remembered sitting at the table while Sammy was taking a nap and mom set down a slice of an apple pie that she had recently baked. Dad was at work and she asked Dean what would be a good idea for dinner.

"How long ago was that?" Donovan asked acidly.

"I was four," Dean answered. "It ended the night I carried my baby brother out of the house while my father tried to save our mom who was set on fire on the ceiling by a demon."

"I think that is enough," Greg said.

"I'm sorry," Donovan said. "I did not mean for you to dig up that memory."

"Nothing really to dig when it is never buried. I wish I can delete facts or memories like Sherlock can, or could. My life would be easier."

"We all wish we could," Greg said and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"You are trying to be nice," Donovan said as she placed the book in her hand in a bag. "Magic spells that can cause people to swap bodies are real and you were once in Sherlock's body."

"That is right," Dean said and sat down next to her. He remembered telling it to her before but it sounded like she needed him to repeat the fact before she could fully accept it.

"That must have been quite the experience for you."

"It was kind of weird being so wiry and able to process information like that." He tapped his head. "And annoying when I went through nicotine withdrawals and beer tasted disgusting to me."

"I'm glad we got the two of you back to normal," Greg said as he sat down in the third chair. "You have been helpful on that werewolf case, Dean, but I prefer working with him. It is a good thing you did switch or that…"

"Would have been me that jumped?" Dean asked. "Yeah I haven't gone a day without thinking that and I would have jumped to save you, Mrs. Hudson and John."

"That is why you are so determined to clear his name and restore his reputation," Sally said. She placed her hands on her head. "Once we are done I'll see to it that you will be promoted back to Detective Inspector again, Lestrade. I wouldn't mind stepping down. It is a bit stressful."

"Who said you would have to step down?" Greg asked. "We could both be Detective Inspectors. We just would be in different divisions."

"Heads up," Dean said as Carrow was being lead to the room on the other side of the mirror. "Who's going first?"

"I am," Greg said and he stepped out. "I'll have them bring you a cup of coffee. "

"Thanks I feel knackered," Dean said and blinked. "Did I just say that? I'm adapting to this environment."

Another officer came in with a paper cup full of coffee for Dean and even handed him a few sugar packets. Dean thanked the officer even though he didn't put sugar in his coffee and took a long sip.

"Starting easy," Donovan said as Greg spoke to Carrow. "He starts out kind and grows harsher and harsher. That has been his strategy."

"Does it work?" Dean asked as he set the cup down.

"Nearly all the time," Donovan said before she took another sip.

"I noticed that book you were reading. Ghosts, Demons, and Witchcraft: A guide to what is out there and how to protect yourself by Corwin Adams. I know the author."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Donovan said.

Dean shrugged. "He's not a hunter. He's an actual police detective we saved from a demon near the Portland area. We helped him with the research and wrote and published the book. Sam and I were kind of annoyed by him with that book, well okay I was annoyed."

"But it's helping people," Donovan said and pulled down the collar of her shirt and revealed the charm she wore around her neck. "I have invested in several large containers of salt and I have a silver knife at home."

"It would make our lives and everyone's lives easier if they knew what was out there, but most people who read that would think its fiction or a book about haunted locations in England and then some might take it seriously and then others wouldn't." He sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. "If everyone knew I might be out of a job."

"There is something you could do," Donovan told him.

"I could be a mechanic like my dad was before my mom was murdered. I worked in construction for a year."

"You could also be a consulting detective."

"There is that." He watched as Greg had placed his hands on the table and was yelling at Carrow. "This aint good is it?"

"Carrow is going to be tougher to crack than we had originally thought," Donovan said as Greg stormed out.

"That could have gone better," Greg said as he walked back into the room, Dean and Donovan were in. "Detective Inspector it is your turn and good luck."

"Thank you," Donovan said as she stood up. "I'm going to need it."

Dean took a big drink from his cup as Greg sat back down and watched the mirror. Donovan stormed in to the room in front of Carrow and held up a scrap of paper. It was the same scrap of paper that was in Carrow's shirt pocket.

"Why didn't you wave that in front of him?" Dean asked as he set the cup down.

"I placed it on the table in front of him," Greg said. "I hope she can get him to talk."

"If not then I'll have a go."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Like you said earlier, Charlie will find something and if not we could always bring in Barachiel. He could just stare into Carrow's eyes and find the truth." He felt his phone vibrate slightly from the incoming text.

"Is it from Charlie?" Greg asked in a hopeful tone.

"It's from Robert," Dean read. "He's a friend of ours who is hunting with Sam." He studied the text.

COVEN WAS POSSESED. DEMONS ARE DESTROYED.-RH

AT SCOTLAND YARD. TRYING TO GET A CONFESSION.-DW

TRY TO TALK LATER MAYBE WHEN WE SLEEP-RH

"Just giving them a brief update," Dean said and put his phone away. "They gave me one and good news is that the demons they were hunting have been killed."

"At least you don't have to worry about your brother," Greg said.

"That is one worry that I don't have." Dean chugged the last of his coffee.

"I do have a question for you. Will you ever visit London in the future?"

"I might. I'd have to drug myself to get through the flight, but if I get an invite to John's wedding I will be there with bells on."

"Have you ever been to any other country besides the U.K.?"

"Drove across the border to Mexico once," Dean answered. "Something we were hunting had crossed over and no it wasn't the Chupacabra. It was a type of vengeful spirit called a dybbuk, a mean spirited spook that possessed people and technically we were in British Columbia once." He cringed at the memory. "One second we were in Bobby's house and then we jump through the window and land on a sound stage and get this the sound stage was for a show called Supernatural. It's about two brothers named Sam and Dean Winchester who drive around in a Chevy Impala hunting monsters." He shuddered. "I hated that world."

"I'm trying to imagine if there is an alternate world where my life is part of a show. That would be strange walking around sets and seeing all the cameras."

"And you might see Sherlock, except it's not Sherlock just an actor playing him," Dean smiled and thought of that Misha guy. His smile faded when he remembered how the poor son of a bitch was killed.

"He would be different from Sherlock."

"Probably a completely different guy when the camera is off. He might be kind and friendly or even act like a big dork."

"I think I might pay to see that."

"Donovan just left," Dean said as Donovan walked through the door.

"That was a waste of breath," Donovan said. "He agreed Sebastian Moran is real and his boss, but he refused to tell me where he is."

"Got as far as I did," Greg said.

"My turn," Dean stood up.

* * *

As soon as Dean had left the room he asked for a small glass of water to give to Carrow but he asked to see it first and asked that the cup would not be full. Once he had the water he poured in some salt he brought in a vial and poured in a vial of holy water.

"Is that truth serum?" One of the officers asked.

"Holy water," Dean explained. "I'm a bit superstitious and holy water has always given me some good luck."

"And the salt?"

"I figured with the last summer's heat wave he could use a little," Dean answered and carried the glass into the interrogation room.

"You," Carrow growled and narrowed his eyes at Dean. "I should have known you were undercover. That accent was fake."

"You have that wrong," Dean said as he set the glass down and pulled out his badge. "Kiedas, FBI. Sebastian Moran is climbing up our most wanted list and we are working together with Scotland Yard to bring him in."

"I will not speak to the local officers and I will not speak with you," Carrow said and took a sip from his glass. There was no reaction.

"Okay," Dean said and sat down. "I'll just wait."

"You must plan on sitting there forever," Carrow said.

"Maybe, maybe not. I understand why you are balking. You probably have a nice pad, great car, HD flatscreen, blue ray, and all the video gaming systems you could want. I bet your laptop costs you about two grand. You have enough saved up to plan a nice relaxing vacation in the Bahamas."

"You don't know anything."

"I know you are sitting on a good pile of money and we can give you something even better. FBI witness protection will relocate you to the state and city of your choice and you will have one of the nicest houses with a pool, Jacuzzi, white picket fence and a Jaguar or a Viper in the drive way. All you have got to do is tell us where Moran is."

"That sounds nice but the answer is no." There was a hint he wanted to give into temptation, but something was holding him back.

"I get it you are afraid of him," Dean said as he held up his hand. "We will protect you. You won't even have to be afraid of his men anymore since you will be in our country."

"And as you have stated he has some people working for him in America," Carrow said. "He is a criminal mastermind. He will know where I am and hunt me down."

"Are we talking about Moran?"

"Moran is not the one in charge and I can outwit him."

"Then give me his location," Dean said.

"If I give it to you then I'm a dead man."

"You said you are not afraid of Moran so why not tell us?"

"Because the real threat will have me killed."

"And who would that be?"

"Mori-"He stopped.

"You were about to say Moriarty," Dean said and pointed at him. "James Moriarty is dead."

"It's a lie."

"How can you be certain?" Dean asked as he leaned forward.

"Because he has been seen in America. He is still in charge and by telling you this I probably signed my death warrant."

"His body is missing," Dean whispered and remembered what Fergus had told him that they were keeping it for future use. If Moriarty had been sighted then there was a good chance he was out walking around, and more dangerous than before.


	22. 21 Jupiter and the Infinite Beyond

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 21: Jupiter and the Infinite Beyond_

* * *

Dean stared at Carrow for a few more seconds while he digested the words the man had told him. Moriarty had been seen walking around. The dark soul that was inside had finished his transformation into a demon. It only had taken about a year but the transformation was complete and James Moriarty is alive once again, only this time he was more powerful than before. There was the possibility that it was a fake Moriarty just like there are fake Sherlocks being sighted now thanks to Dean.

"I understand why you are afraid," Dean said slowly as he backed out of the section of the room. "Still doesn't excuse the fact that you're a douche for getting involved in all of this to begin with, but I understand."

Both Lestrade and Donovan looked more concerned than disappointed when Dean returned and he knew they heard as much as he had.

"He didn't tell you where Moran is," Greg said and raised his eyebrows in concern. "But he did tell you something that we are not going to want to hear."

"He told me Moriarty is still alive," Dean informed them and watched as the two were silent for a full minute. They didn't even blink.

"Anderson had examined the body before it disappeared," Donovan was the first to speak. "He said there was no way Moriarty could have survived that."

"He was right," Dean confirmed. "The nutjob did swallow the bullet and his body was taken by Crowley's goons. Crowley was once the king of hell before he became mostly human. He felt that Moriarty would become a demon faster than the average person and he wanted to heal and preserve the body."

"So he could control both Hell and Moriarty's network," Greg said. "His body has been seen."

"Transformation is complete," Dean confirmed.

"It's not bad enough that we are trying to find the number one minion of a mad man but now we have to find a demon," Donovan said. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I wish Sherlock was still alive and here." She closed her eyes and sighed. "I do want him alive. I never wanted him dead."

"Just because you dislike someone doesn't mean you want them to be hurt or worse," Dean told her. "Maybe we started off on the wrong foot, but you are kind of all right."

"Thank you."

"We still don't know where Moran is," Greg said.

"Gotta count on Charlie again," Dean said and rubbed his head. "I hate to cut and run but I need to get back to my hotel and grab twenty minutes of shut eye."

"Understandable," Greg said. "Call us when Charlie finds something."

* * *

Dean's head had barely hit the pillow when he felt himself being pulled into a velvety darkness. He felt like he was swimming for a few minutes before he felt the soles of his feet strike against sand. He felt warm sun on his skin and when he opened his eyes he was on a beach.

"Not a bad spot," Dean said as he sat down and let the edge of the cool waves strike against his toes.

"You are one of the last people I would expect to dream about being on a beach," Sherlock said as he walked up to him from behind.

"It's my subconscious," Dean said and turned around to see that Sherlock was dressed in his traditional suit, coat and scarf. "You are overdressed there." He smiled as the clothes melted away and Sherlock was only wearing a pair of gray swim trunks with bright vermillion dead birds on it.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded and looked down at himself. "I should be thankful that you did not put me in speedos. Dead birds? Really, Winchester?"

"I was trying to go for dead parrots," Dean said. "You being English and I'm in England right now and Monty Python being one of your countries greatest exports." He sighed in defeat. "Okay you can change it."

"You wish to speak with me," Sherlock said as he became clothed in a white t-shirt and blue denim shorts.

"I have bad news."

"You are unable to find Sebastian Moran."

"That is part of it although Charlie has found some more names for us and a few addresses. We are going to give it to Greg and his men will look into some and we will look into others." He dug his fingers into the damp sand. "Moriarty is a full demon now and back in his original meat suit. This Carrow that I interrogated said there have been sightings of him at least in the states."

"It's worse," Sherlock said as he sat down next to him. "That is Moriarty's body but the demon inside is Abaddon."

"Abaddon?" Dean repeated the name. "That is worse and how did you—you came across the bitch?"

"Yes we-"

"You came across her when you were dealing with the demons," Dean interrupted. "The ones you texted me about. One of them was Abaddon."

"Abaddon was there but we were able to escape from him," Sherlock said.

"You lied to me."

"I told you we took care of it and we did. I did not lie."

"You just left out some information."

"Your brother and I did not want to worry you," Sherlock said as he stood back up. "I understand your worry and I will not let any harm befall upon Sam."

"After every hunt you will report to me," Dean ordered.

"You are getting to be as bad as Mycroft."

"Because I care about the both of you?" Dean asked as he glared at him. "That's what big brothers do. Next time you go on a hunt you tell me, either by text or an actual call or like this." He held out his arms to indicate the dreamscape. "And when you are done with the hunt you tell me. Those are the orders."

"We are fine," Sherlock said before he turned on his heel and walked away.

"You will tell me," Dean said as the scene faded away. "And I will find out either from you, or Sam or I'll call the Batcave myself."

* * *

"I will call the batcave myself," Dean said as he sat up in bed. He looked around and only found Castiel staring back at him.

"You had a dream?" Cas asked.

"Dream connection with Sherly," Dean answered. "Moriarty is not in his suit. It's Abaddon."

Cas was silent for a minute. "She would like to gain control of both Moriarty's network and hell. I am not surprised. Sherlock and Sam had crossed paths with her?"

"Yeah and they managed to elude the bitch for now. I wish they told me the truth. How is Charlie?"

"Still hacking," Cas said.

"She is going to need a break," Dean said as he grabbed his wallet. "I'm going to call John and Molly and see if we can meet then for lunch." But first he had to make another call. He dialed the number to the bunker. It had rung three times before he heard someone pick up on the other end.

"Hello?" Kevin asked in a weary tone.

"Kevin? Sorry if I woke you. Have you heard from Sam or Sherly?"

"Not for a while. I passed out after getting the message from heaven and when I woke up they were gone."

"It's just you there?" Dean asked in a worried tone?

"I think Fergus is still asleep and to tell the truth I want to go back to bed," Kevin said and Dean could hear him yawn.

"Get some rest, kid. I'll call you later." He hung up. He knew he shouldn't worry but there was a lingering thought in the back of his mind that told him everything was not all fine and dandy back home.

* * *

_?_

Sherlock woke up from a long and much needed rest and nearly jumped up in surprise. He was in a room that was mostly painted white with a gold lacquer trim. Even most of the furniture was white and trimmed in gold, including the sofa he was sleeping on. He had to blink for a few seconds to make sure he was not in Buckingham Palace again. The interior design was similar yet it was the obvious details that told him he was somewhere he was never at before. The most glaring and stand out detail were the paintings that decorated the walls. The paintings were all of angels.

"Do you like it?" Inias asked. He was one of the seven suited angels standing in the room with Sherlock. Ariel was another.

"What is this place and where is Sam?" Sherlock asked as he continued to examine his surroundings. He should have known who some of the artists were but he might have deleted their names from his mind.

"This is our green room," Inias explained. "We had to change the location once Dean knew where it was. We are going to make this place as pleasant for you as possible."

"Where is Sam?" Sherlock demanded.

"Purifying himself through confession and prayer," Ariel answered. "He is no longer of your concern."

"Where is he?" Sherlock repeated slowly as a new fear gripped his mind. How long was he asleep? "He did not complete the third trial."

"He is about to," Ariel explained as she walked around the room. "He is not far from here so there is no need to fear. You were out long enough. You do remember right?"

"I remember being in a van with you and we were following another van and Sam was inside." Sherlock said as he remembered riding in back. "I kept asking you questions, demanding to know the answers and one of you." He looked around until he identified the angel in question. "You touched my forehead and I was asleep."

"You talk too much," the angel Sherlock had identified said. He was different from the others while most were young and slender in appearance he was short, fat and a few years shy of fifty and had salt and pepper hair and a matching thick, bushy mustache. "I had to silence you."

"Oh no, no no," Sherlock said and smiled. "All you did was delay me. I will demand to know the answers."

"I will put you under again," the angel said and walked toward him, only to have his path blocked by Inias and Ariel.

"We need him, Melchior." Inias said. "He knows information from the prophet."

"What if he is lying?" Melchior asked. "He could be just trying to save his own skin and delay what is destined for Sam Winchester."

"Inias and I looked into his eyes," Ariel told him. "He speaks the truth."

"You know he speaks the truth, but cannot read the information off of him?" Melchior asked.

"Sherlock Holmes has a complex mind and soul," Inias said. "He has the information locked deep inside. All that I can see is blurry."

"We will tell him this much," Melchior said. "Sam Winchester is close by as is the creature that used to be the demon, Crowley. Sam Winchester will complete the final trial and seal away Hell."

"And kill him," Sherlock finished, his voice dropping to a low growl. "I will not allow you to harm him." He will not allow them to harm Sam and it was not because he had promised Dean he would look out for the younger Winchester. He hated having to keep secrets from Dean but he truly did not want Dean to worry about him. He hated having to lie or leave out information as he had referred to it. Protecting Sam and not revealing important information? He truly was a member of the family.

"You are not in a position to tell us what to do, human," Melchior said as he squinted his brown eyes at him.

"If you only wish to close the gates of hell then that is all you will get," Sherlock said. He wanted to rip the grace out of Melchior himself and shatter it. "But you will still not get back into Heaven and I can see that is one thing you and the rest of your kind want more than anything. Release Sam now."

"Sherlock, you should relax," Ariel suggested, her voice had become softer. "Turn around."

"What good will turning around do?" Sherlock asked as he did turn around. The table that was behind him was covered in food when seconds before there was none. "Even I will admit that is impressive." He stared at the food. There was shrimp in lobster sauce and lomein noodles and Chinese dumplings. There were pasta dishes that looked like they came from Angelo's. There were steak and chips and grilled peppers and zucchini. There were even tarts, mince pies and soufflés like the ones that Mrs. Hudson had baked for him. There were a few bottles of wine, all his favorite brands on the table.

"These are your favorites?" Inias asked in a hopeful tone.

"Yes they are," Sherlock said and walked around the table. It wasn't an illusion. He could smell the delicious aromas and feel his stomach gurgle.

"Your pallet is a bit more complex than Dean's," Inias said.

"For him you prepared hamburgers, beer and pie." Sherlock said and selected one of the chips. It was almost in a perfect triangular prism shape with the skin and after he plopped it in his mouth he could taste the sea salt that it was used. The chips were sautéed lightly in vegetable oil with a bit of olive oil drizzled on. They were the most perfect and delicious tasting chips he had ever tasted.

"This room will keep you safe," Inias told him as he held out his arms. "It will accommodate to all your needs and desires. It will satisfy your wants. A bathroom will appear if you ever need to use the toilet or feel the need to wash your hands or shower."

"I do not want any of this," Sherlock said and stepped away from the table. "I want Sam Winchester brought to me and without harm."

"You will not get your wish," Melchior said.

"I thought you would be different," Sherlock said and walked back to the couch and sat down. One of the other angels looked like he was going to sit down next to him but Sherlock pulled up his legs and stretched out, taking up the entire space of the sofa and earning a sour look from the angel.

"Do you think me to be different?" Melchior asked. "Or do you think Inias and Ariel would be different because they were nice to you?"

"I thought you would be different from the humans," Sherlock said and stared at the ceiling. "But no you are clearly not. Your kind is just as stubborn, just as idiotic. That is why the tasks would be hard for you, because your heads are too thick to even comprehend that they exist."

"Melchior, no," Inias said and grabbed Melchior by the arm before he turned to Sherlock. "Tell us what they are, Sherlock Holmes. Please tell us what the tasks are."

"The tasks are set in stone," Sherlock said as he sat back up. "I believe your father would want to you to earn your wings back by assisting us humans since he asked you to watch over us, and protect us from the demons. Of course you failed on that matter."

"Just tell us what they are already," Melchior demanded.

"The first is for an angel to help a human restore their honor," Sherlock said. "They angel must be willing to help and have no knowledge of the task. Your brother, Barachiel has completed that task and I thank him for it."

"I felt something on my back," Ariel said. "It felt like an itching and then a tingling sensation. I felt that twice."

"The second task was also completed?" Inias asked.

"The second task was for an angel to make love to a human," Sherlock answered. "It did not matter if they were both genders at the same time or not. Your other brother Gabriel, who is alive, had slept with a human woman."

"Gabriel's alive?" Inias asked and his eyes lit up. "I thought he was dead." He looked around at his fellow angels. "Gabriel is alive."

"He was brought back," Ariel said and the other angels chimed in with smiles on their faces.

"He left us long ago," Melchior said in a bitter tone.

"Does that matter?" Inias asked. "He stood up against Lucifer and God brought him back. Father believes Gabriel is worthy of being brought back."

"That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he left us."

"Why can we not let it go? I forgive him and you forgave me when I ran and hid out of fear from the Leviathans."

"And as I see it you are still earning that bit of forgiveness," Melchior growled at him.

"I am no longer angry with him, brother," Inias said and glared into Melchior's eyes. "Perhaps we should be more like him and Cast-"He was met with a smack in the face.

"Do not say that name in my presence."

"What name?" Sherlock asked with his eyebrow arched. "Castiel? I should say that name again. Castiel, Castiel Cas-"He froze when he felt his throat closing in.

"Stop," Inias said and grabbed Melchior by the arm.

"Brother this is enough," Ariel added. She had her sword aimed for Melchior's heart. The other angels in the room had surrounded the two of them.

"Fine," Melchior said and Sherlock could speak again. "We still do not know the third and final task."

"Because I haven't told you," Sherlock said and couched. "You would know what it is now if you were not so slow."

"Do not test me," Melchior growled.

"Sherlock, what is the final task?" Inias asked.

"An angel must give their grace to a human," Sherlock answered. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "I will be that human."


	23. 22: Stakehout

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 22: Stakeout_

**Warning:** Character death in this chapter.

* * *

_London_

Dean woke up to the sound of knocking on the door to his and Cas's room. He rolled over once and hoped that it was someone realizing they were knocking on the wrong door. When he heard the knocking again he groaned and sat up. Through bleary eyes he could see the time on the clock. It was only a few minutes after four. Who the heck was knocking at this hour?

"Are you going to answer that?" Castiel asked. He buried his head under his pillow.

"Why don't you answer it?" Dean asked. "I've been doing most of the leg work. What did you do today, I mean yesterday while I talked to Carrow and tried to locate Abaddon?"

"I brought food and drink to Charlie while she worked" Cas answered. "Barachiel and I helped John and Mary pick out designs for the invitations to send out for their wedding. Did you know John wants to invite all of us? He even wants to invite Charlie and Sam."

"That's nice," Dean grumbled and the knocking was heard again, only louder this time. "All right, all right." He rolled out of bed and walked to the door.

"I found eight possibilities," Charlie said as she staggered into the room. "Eight different locations for Sebastian Moran."

"When was the last time you slept?" Dean asked. Every time he checked in on Charlie she was seated at the small table in her room, eyes glued to the screen of her laptop while her fingers danced across the keys.

"I think yesterday," Charlie answered. "Maybe."

"Maybe is not the answer," Dean said and grabbed her by the hand. He grabbed both his key and the spare key to her room and led her down the slightly dark hallway and to her room.

"I have to tell the authorities," Charlie said with her jaw stretching to yawn out the last word.

"Leave that to me." He used the key card and entered the room. "Your job right now is to climb into bed and go to sleep."

"You are not the boss of me," Charlie yawned again.

"Winchester hunting business and I'm the boss. You work for me."

"Why are you the boss?"

"Because I'm the oldest and have been hunting the longest." Dean turned around to look at you. "And you should be grateful that I didn't call you out on your lie."

"What lie?" Charlie asked as she yawned again.

"I've never been to London when you have a U.K passport."

"I have been to the U.K and that is true but I could have not come to London before."

"And if you haven't you would have said I haven't not could of not." He pulled back the covers to her bed. "Don't make me pick you up because I will."

"I hate you," Charlie grumbled as she climbed into bed. "Jerk."

"Brat," Dean said with a smile. "You hate me now but you will thank me in the morning." He pulled both the sheet and blanket over her chest. "Pleasant dreams, kiddo."

"Nighty night," Charlie moaned out and turned to her side.

Dean didn't wait for her to completely fall asleep before he made his way to her lap top. It was open and next to it was a notepad that did have some addresses and vague places in England. There was even an address for a place in Cardiff and the last time Dean checked that was in Whales. The eighth location was at Heathrow. Charlie must have come across some information that Moran was on a returning flight from India and she had the flight number and time.

Dean logged into his own e-mail account and wrote a letter to send to Scotland Yard as well as John's and Greg's personal accounts. He copied the locations from Charlie's notepad along with the flight time and number.

"They should call me soon," Dean said and turned off the computer and closed it. Until then he could grab another hour or so of sleep.

* * *

_?_

Sherlock stared at the angels. He expected them to be either surprised by what the last task entailed or they would appear stoic as ever. The angels had a mixture of emotions spread across their faces. There were a few without any, a couple who were shocked including Ariel. Inias was worried and Melchior was angry.

"You see," Melchior hissed and pointed at Sherlock. "He lied about the final task. He wants us to give him our grace. He knows what it will do to him."

"Actually I am not aware," Sherlock said and walked over to the harp. "I was only informed on what the task was, not what it would do to the human who received the grace and I do not want all of yours. Just one angel is needed. I understand that it might kill me and I will accept that. You will have your wings again. You will be able to return to Heaven and take down Metatron."

"Do not give this flesh bag your grace," Melchior said. "That is an order."

"I was wrong," Sherlock said as he walked back to the table. "I thought you wanted your wings. I thought you wanted to return home, but clearly I was wrong." He looked around for a glass and one materialized before him. "I do enjoy being treated like a guest of honor though." He reached for one of the bottles of wine.

"Allow me," Inias said and took the bottle from him. He carefully twisted and pulled at the cork until it popped up. "Here you go." He poured the wine into the glass and handed it back to Sherlock.

"I thank you and you do seem more reasonable than your brother over there," Sherlock said and nodded towards Melchior. "I have a hard time reading angels so I have to ask why are you different?"

"I try to do what I feel is best," Inias answered. "I try to follow what I feel is what God wanted for us to do. I feel like I am meant to be a peacekeeper."

"I have another question," Sherlock said before he took a sip from his glass. "Are you able to speak with Kushiel? He is the one in charge and he is with Sam. Do you have a phone? You can call him and tell him what the final task is and let him know that I am willing to accept the grace."

"No one is speaking with Kushiel," Melchior ordered.

"You are not in charge of this mission," Ariel reminded him. "I will speak with him."

"No," Melchior said and stepped in front of her. "I will choose who speaks with him." He pointed to another female angel. She was tall with short blond hair. "Deborah you will go and take Israfael with you." He pointed to a well groomed black man.

"We will return soon." She and the one called Israfael walked out of a door that was not there before as soon as the door closed it disappeared.

"How did you do that?" Sherlock asked and set his glass down on the table.

"You are the one with the brilliant mind," Melchior reminded him. "You tell me."

"It's always angel magic," Sherlock said. "But you are not actually causing this. The room itself is created to be like this. The magic is not with the operators, that being you angels, but with the setting. It is quite clever on your behalf." He grabbed a plate and filled it with food. He could not believe how hungry he was. It was the least he could do while he waited for the two angels to return.

* * *

_London_

Dean was right in his guess. It was almost six when he received a call from Greg. Hundreds of officers were sent to the locations. The DI who received the e-mail had contacted of officers including the one in Cardiff and he received the information a few minutes prior. Greg and Sally were heading to the airport to find Moran.

"And we will be there," Dean said and sent a text to John.

MORAN AT HEATHROW IN TWO HOURS-Dean

BARRY AND I WILL BE THERE-JW

Dean made fake badges and I.D. for John and Barry, using the prototype that Sherlock had made for them. Sherlock had told him that he didn't know what would be easier, just easily stealing Lestrade's badge of using a fake one since most people were too stupid to know otherwise.

The four of them had met at Heathrow and after they received the badges John and the angel followed after them and met up with Greg and Sally.

"We have undercover officers in various locations," Sally informed them. "I know you are not part of my division but I am just going to ask the four of you to separate into groups of two and spread out."

"Here is picture of the suspect," Greg said and handed out two pictures, one to John and another to Dean. "Keep in mind that he might have changed his look."

"I'll keep a sharp eye out for him," Dean said as he studied Moran. The guy was built like a linebacker with practically no neck, bald head and lantern jaw. There was a scar over his left eyebrow and he sported a thick and bristly handlebar moustache. "This guy looks like a golem."

"Sherlock and I remember coming across him," John said.

"You guys fought against a golem?" Dean asked. "You had heck of a time of believing in angels but you fought a giant clay man."

"He wasn't a real golem," Greg said with a grin. "He was called The Golem."

"Did you and Sam fight a real golem?" John asked.

"We were on the same side," Dean explained. "We went up against some undead Nazis and I'll tell you about it later."

"Maybe you should start a blog," John said and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I would gladly read it."

"We can talk about our memoirs later," Sally told them. "We need to fan out now."

As soon as she had said those words the six of them had separated, heading into different directions of the airport and Dean found a great location not far from the gate where Moran's flight was due to land at a place that made delicious sirloin burgers with bacon and eggs on top.

"I thought this was a stake out and not a pig out," Castiel said as Dean dove into his third burger.

"You are one to talk," Dean said as soon as he had chewed and swallowed. "How many burgers did you eat when you felt the effect of famine?"

"I lost count," Castiel said as he held up the photo of Moran again. "He's as tall as Sam."

"We look for tall man of muscle," Dean said and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Now there is a good chance he shaved off the walrus hair and he could have a beard, or he could have hair on his head now.

"I will focus on his facial features and his scar," Castiel said. He stared into his drink. "I miss Sam."

"Me too. I miss all those guys and we are helping one of them by being here." He stared at his phone. He sent Sherlock and Sam texts about going after Moran and only got one from Sherlock about being in the middle of a meal and they were fine. Dean was glad they were eating. He was getting sick and tired of reminding people to sleep and eat.

"What will happen if we catch him?" Castiel asked.

"You mean when we catch him," Dean corrected.

"What will happen when we catch him? There is a good chance he won't speak like the others."

"We'll worry about that after we catch him. One goal at a time, Cas." Dean finished off the small burger and wolfed down the second one on his plate before he chugged down his coffee. He thought about ordering a couple more when he got a call from Greg.

"He's heading your way," Greg shouted.

Dean didn't care that the Detective Sergeant shouted in his ear. He looked up to see a tall and beefy man race past him. He had grown his hair had styled in a crew-cut and shaved off his facial hair. Dean bolted to his feet and shoved his phone back into his pocket as he tore after Moran.

The bastard was fast and Dean had a feeling the guy could run and so could he. There were plenty of times when Cas would fall behind and even a few times when Sam couldn't keep with him. Sam once asked how could someone with such thigh gaps could be faster than he was. Moran just didn't have speed but strength and he kept shoving people aside, practically flinging them off his body.

Moran shifted directions in one last second, but even that wasn't fast enough for one officer who jumped on him and the hit man still was running even with an officer clinging to his shoulders.

"Off me," Moran grunted as he flung off the copper.

Lucky for Dean this was enough to slow him down for Dean to catch up. Dean launched himself and struck head first against one of Moran's thighs and he held on fast to his leg.

"Those burgers I had should weigh you down," Dean said as felt himself being dragged. "Seriously? You still moving?"

"I aint stopping for no Yank." He reached down and grabbed Dean by the collar.

"No yank, but how about a punch?" Dean asked and punched Moran straight into the crotch using every bit of strength he had.

"You bastard," Moran grunted. His teeth were clenched and tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes but he didn't double over as Dean had hope he would but he had loosened his grip on Dean.

Dean had to at least try and fight him. He punched the guy as hard as he could in the chin and felt the bones in his fingers break.

Moran snarled and hefted up Dean again, even though he had a few more officers on his back trying to weigh him down he was still set to strike Dean. He only released his grip when he was tackled by Barry. The sheer weight of two coppers and an angel was enough to pin the human brick down.

"You will not take me alive," Moran shouted.

"Sweep his mouth for a cyanide pill," one of the cops shouted.

Barry placed his fingers on Moran's forehead and as soon as the criminal and closed his eyes he swept his fingers through his mouth and held up a pill.

"Good job, brother," Castiel said once he had caught up. He was still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah," Dean said as he stood back up. They found Moran and caught him. Their main goal was almost over. Right now he needed to take care of the pain in his hand. It was a good thing he knew a friendly army doc.

* * *

_?_

Sherlock wondered how much longer he and the angels were going to have to wait until Deborah and Israfael return with Kushiel's orders. He had already cleaned off his plate and also indulged on one of the soufflés. He had used the bathroom and he had to walk through a different mysterious door in order to access the toilet and the sink, but now he was bored.

"Bored," he cried out as he stretched out on the sofa. "For immortal soldiers of God you are quite boring."

"We are not here to entertain you," Melchior growled as he folded his arms.

"Certainly you can do something. Can one of you play the harp?"

"That's a stereotype," Ariel told him as she shook her head in disappointment.

"Do any of you play any instrument? Can you at least sing?" He sighed. "For Christ sake can you make a violin appear? It looks like I am going to have to entertain myself."

"We can play a game?" Inias suggested.

"A game would be fun. Angel's would be a challenge to my intellect. A game would do. Is it a game where we have to ask questions? Would it be a physical game? Will there be cards involved or a game board?"

"Do you like chess?" Inias asked as a chess table appeared.

"Yes that is a game that I would enjoy playing with you," Sherlock leaped from the sofa and sat down in one of the chairs.

"I'll play with you," Inias said as he sat down in the other chair.

"So shall we begin?" Sherlock asked. "Who goes first?"

"No one goes first," Melchior said in an exhausted tone when a door appeared. "They are back."

Deborah and Israfel returned with smiles on their faces. Israfael approached Sherlock and grabbed him from behind while Deborah walked up to Melchior.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked as he was being pulled from the chair.

"Please tell me brother, sister, we can kill him," Melchior said.

"His mortal life will come to an end," Deborah said. "He will receive one of our graces."

"Who will give it to him?" Melchior asked. "I can't imagine any of us would hand over our grace to this thing."

"I will do it," Inias offered as he stood up.

Sherlock stared at the kind angel as he pulled out his sword and stepped closer. Inias didn't stop until their noses nearly touched.

"This will only hurt me." Inias brought the tip of silver sword to his chest and made an incision before he cut across; glowing white light illuminated the wound instead of blood. The angel cringed as his hand cupped under the wound and the luminance curled out into a stream that flew towards Sherlock.

Sherlock held his breath as the light traveled into his nostrils and mouth. He could feel the pure energy pour down his throat and into his stomach before it spread through his blood, his heart through every part of his body and bonded with his soul. He stared back at the weeping Inias who fell to the ground with his eyes covered before he stared down at himself. Sherlock's whole body was glowing brightly and the light overtook his vision and mind before he felt his flesh burn away.


	24. 23: Cruel Angel's Thesis

**Live to Rise**

_Chapter 23: Cruel Angel's Thesis_

* * *

_?_

Sherlock was certain he was dead, except he didn't feel dead nor did he feel alive. He was something that even he couldn't explain. He felt warm and full of energy, pure energy and he could hear music and voices there were so many beautiful and musical voices at once.

_He did it_

_My wings they have returned_

_Our wings have returned_

_We can go home_

_Inias gave so much_

_Inias and the human are to thank_

_He is no longer human he is an Ishim_

_Hello can anyone hear me?_ Sherlock tried to call out, only his voice was like the others, musical and resonating.

_He needs guidance_

_We have to take care of hell and Metatron_

_Sherlock focus on your cells, your molecules and atoms._ The strange voice sounded close to Ariel's. _They are still in the air. Focus on them and draw them to your being. Replicate what has been destroyed._

_I will try_ Sherlock focused on his very being. He visualized the atoms of the periodic table that are needed to create a human body and he could feel his close. He called them to him and he could feel them fly to him, connecting together like a puzzle and shielding him. What he couldn't feel he made copies of until everything was connected.

Sherlock blinked when he felt complete and was revealed that he had his eyelids. He felt his fingers as he tapped the tips against his thumb. The soles of his feet were on the cool hard floor and he could feel the dampness of his tongue when he licked his lips. He ran his fingers over his body, stroking his arms and chest. He was naked. Sherlock blinked again and focused on the molecules of the clothes he was wearing and summoned them to his body, replicating what he could until he was fully dressed.

"What happened to me?" Sherlock asked and stared around the room and did a double take when he saw the large glowing figures standing around him. Where there were once angels there were now strange glowing alien creatures with long slender limbs ending in hands that were three times the size of humans with long curving fingers. They stood on spindly legs with knot like joints, more joints than a human, and they had wide skeletal feet with two toes. Their torsos were twice as long as humans and very thin and topped with broad shoulders and chests, long necks and strange elongated heads. They had no mouth, no nose and large glowing eyes. Some of the creatures had more than one face and they had rings of light encircling their heads. There were also wings of light. Some of the creatures had more than one pair.

_Do not be afraid, brother._

"What are you?" Sherlock asked as he stepped back. "Where are the angels?"

_We are here_

_Turn around_

Sherlock turned around and found a large mirror. What he saw in the mirror's surface frightened him. There was another of the strange figure's staring back at him. The glow was not as bright and there were one pair of wings and when Sherlock raised his hand the creature raised one of its large hands.

_You remember what we looked like before_ Ariel spoke to him. _Focus on our vessels and your body._

Sherlock swallowed as he stared in the mirror. The strange glow faded along with the creature and Sherlock's body became more solid. He continued to stare until all he could see was himself, albeit with the glowing ring over his head and wings.

_The change is always unsettling for Ishims_. Ariel told him.

_I'm an angel?_ Sherlock felt himself shake as he realized he was communicating with his new species. _How is this possible?_

"Ishims are formed by one of two ways," Ariel said as she took him by the hand. "When they accept the grace of an angel or when they perform a great service to Heaven and Earth."

"I was not expecting this," Sherlock said as he hugged himself. "What of Inias?" He looked at the chess table where he had last seen Inias and found nothing. He looked around the room and found Inias unconscious on the sofa. "Inias?"

"The human is resting," Melchior said as he scowled at Sherlock. The way Melchior said human was in the same way Sherlock would have mentioned Mrs. Hudson's husband's first name, bitter and acidic.

"He was one of you," Sherlock glared at Melchior before he walked towards the former angel. "The task is complete. I will return your grace to you soon."

"You will not, Ishim," Melchior growled. "I am your commander and you will do as I say."

"You are wrong, Melchior." Sherlock never lost his glare he had reserved for this particular angel but the corner of his lips curled up into a smirk. "Oh I may be one of you, but don't think for a second that I'm on your side." He turned around, gently scooped up Inias in his arms and flapped his new wings.

* * *

Sherlock appeared somewhere that was dirty and worn. He could smell the dirt, the grungy rot and the rust along with a metallic odor and the scent of cement. There were several other odors: blood, oil, grease and human body odor. The most powerful human body odor was also mixed with the cologne and deodorant that Fergus preferred.

"Fergus," Sherlock called out. "Sam where are you?" The smells and the presents of old rusty machines, chains hanging overhead with cables and a few tools here and there led Sherlock to believe he was in either an old abandoned garage or factory. There was also a strange white building in the corner of the garage.

He could feel that he was not alone. He could feel the other angels in the area with him. Sherlock turned around and saw that he was surrounded by them. He pulled Inias closer to his chest and glared at him.

"This is a glorious day," Kushiel said, triumph hung from every word. "Our wings have been restored; we can return home, defeat Metatron, closed the gates to Hell-"

Sherlock refused to listen to any other word that fell out of his mouth as he tore past the other angels to see what they were blocking. What he saw brought him down to his knees. Fergus was tied to a chair over the cleanest section of floor in the entire garage save for the devils trap underneath, and the motionless body of Sam Winchester lying next to it.

"Sherlock," Fergus's voice cracked. Tears were streaming down his eyes. "I'm sorry. I knew this would happen, but they told me if I didn't meet with them they would kill you. I hoped he wouldn't…he wouldn't…"

"It's not your fault," Sherlock said as he kneeled down next to Sam. He carefully set Inias down before he placed a hand on Sam's form. Sam wasn't breathing and when Sherlock placed his fingers on Sam's cold neck he could not feel a pulse. "This is my fault."

"No it's not," Fergus said and shook his head. "I had to make up, make up for all that I have done. I took care of you, lot. I made sure you were well fed, helped with your injuries when you returned home. I made sure you got enough sleep. I made soup and tea for when you were ill and brought you things you need from the store. It was my job to take care of you boys and I failed twice." He paused to sniff. "I might still be failing. I left Kevin all by himself."

"Do not blame yourself," Sherlock said. "I made a promise to Dean to look after Sam. I promised to protect him and keep him safe. It was my number one priority and I failed. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam's body didn't feel cold after a few seconds. It was surprisingly warm and as Sherlock studied him he could see a glow develop within Sam's body. His veins were illuminated with brilliant white that was slowly spreading across his form.

_Ishims are formed by one of two ways_. _When they accept the grace of an angel and or when they perform a great service to Heaven and Earth._ Ariel's words came to his mind.

"Fergus, close your eyes," Sherlock ordered and shielded Inias's body. He stared at Sam as the brilliance over took Sam and his human form erupted into tiny specks, leaving behind a glowing, floating and confused angel.

_What happened?_ Sam's voice was heard in Sherlock's mind.

_Sam listen to me._ _Concentrate on your molecules and command them to return to you._

_Sherlock is that you?_

_Don't be alarmed, just repair your body. Bring back your atoms and cells, replicate everything that is completely eradicated and you will also have to do the same for your clothes._

_Okay I think._

Sherlock watched as Sam's body was reformed. He could almost see the cells return to Sam, forming organs and systems before his skin covered it all, followed by Sam's clothes forming around him. Sam lowered himself to the ground with his new glowing wings and stared at Sherlock in complete shock.

"Yes that was discerning for me as well," Sherlock said. "Remember what I look like and what you look like and what all the angels' vessels looked like and you will be able to change your vision." He watched as Sam closed his eyes. "It may take time."

"Take time okay," Sam said and opened his eyes and smiled. "You look normal, except you have these wings and it looks like a halo." He pointed to his head and pulled back when he touched his halo

"I'm an angel, Sam," Sherlock explained. "Inias here gave me his grace. He's human and I'm an angel, and you have been turned into one as well."

"We're angels?" Sam asked. "The trials entail a sacrifice on my behalf. I'm supposed to have died."

"You did," Kushiel said as he and the others approached them. "It wasn't just death but also rebirth. Your brother failed to stay and listen. As I said before it is a glorious day for our wings have been restored, we can return home, we can defeat Metatron, the gates of hell have been closed and two new angels have been formed."

"My brother?" Sam asked and looked around. "Dean isn't here."

"That human is no longer a relation to you, Ishim," Kushiel continued. "We are your brothers and sisters."

"He meant me," Sherlock said.

"They wanted this," Fergus said. Tears and sorrow were replaced by anger. "They wanted both of you to be angels. Their leader ordered two of them to stay for a few hours until Sam was nearly done."

"You what?" Sherlock snarled and turned to glare at Kushiel. "You played me for a fool, but you will not play me any longer. I will not serve you or fight on your behalf."

"You kept him in that beautiful room," Sam said as he pointed at the white structure. "Kept him from knowing."

"You must help us fight for our home," Kushiel said. "Please brothers; it is your home now."

"My family is not with you," Sherlock said as he picked Inias back up. "My family is with Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel, Fergus, Kevin and Charlie. My family is with my parents and my brother, Mycroft. It is with John Watson, Martha Hudson, and Molly Hooper and while not family I certainly care more about my friend Greg Lestrade than any of you. I even care more about Sally Donovan and Anderson than you."

"We are going to our home," Sam said and pointed at Fergus. He seemed to concentrate and the ropes fell of the former demon.

"You are ordered to fight along with us," Kushiel said.

"We are not going to fight for you," Sam said. "We are going to take the humans to a safe location, our home and then we are going to fight for Castiel and Inias here."

"And for Barachiel and Gabriel," Sherlock added. "Sam do you have Fergus?"

"I'm going to try to do it like Cas," Sam said. "Fergus we will stop just outside the front door. Can you take Inias in?"

"I'll look after the kid," Fergus promised.

"Then let's go," Sam said and placed his fingers on Fergus's head. He flapped his wings and they both disappeared.

Sherlock thought of the bunker and flapped his wings.

* * *

_London_

"Are you done?" Dean asked as John finished up wrapping Dean's hand. Without a proper X-ray it would be extremely hard to tell if Dean had broken any bones in his fingers or not. John had given them a thorough examination and feels that only a couple of the knuckles are broken and used make shift splints before he wrapped Dean's hand up in big load of gauze.

"Just want to be sure they won't move until we get you a proper examination," John said. "You are stubborn."

"I want to be there when the bastard confesses," Dean said. "And you forget your flat mate can instantly heal."

"Yes," John sighed. "I told him only to do it in life or death situations."

"I'll ask him to only do it half way and you can treat me back at your place." Dean wondered where Barachiel was. The last he saw of the angel he was hanging with Cas in the break room along with a box of donuts and coffee pitchers.

"Were you talking about us?" Castiel asked from behind. Even as a human he was stealthy. Barachiel was standing next to him with a half-eaten donut in his hand. The angel didn't need to eat. He just did it because he likes the taste.

"I was just wondering if Barry here can give me a little bit of a healing touch?" Dean asked as he held out his hand.

"Of course, but I promised John not to unless it was severe," Barachiel said.

"It's fine," John told him. "Just halfway."

Barry placed a couple of fingers on top of Dean's fist and it only took a few seconds before Dean felt the pain in his hand lesson halfway and he gave the angel a smile and a nod.

"Is Moran going to confess?" Cas asked.

"We still don't know," John said and looked over at Barry. "Maybe you can do that reading of the soul." He blinked when the angel didn't move. "Barachiel are you all right?"

"No," Barry said. "I'm more than all right" He closed his eyes and smiled. "The bells are ringing, John. They are ringing for all of us."

"Bells?" John asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings?" Cas asked. "I made a reference, Dean. I know it now and why she called me Clarence." His eyes widened. "Your wings have been restored?"

"Yes," Barachiel said. "I hear the whispers."

"Whispers?" Dean asked as the screech of a velociraptor was heard. He tried to ignore it but his phone kept going off. "Who is calling me?" He did not recognize the number.

WINCHESTER PICK UP DAMN IT. WINCHESTER ITS GABRIEL. WINCHESTER IM GOING HOME TO FIGHT METATRON.

GOOD FOR YOU GIVE HIM A KICK FOR CAS AND ME. Dean sent the reply.

IRENE NEEDS A SAFE PLACE TO STAY.

TRY OUR HOTEL. Dean typed the reply and gave them the name of the hotel and his room. Irene will stay there until they return or if Charlie decided to visit. Actually Charlie might thank them if she gets to meet Irene.

"Who was that?" John asked.

"Gabriel," Dean said. "He said he is going to kick Metatron in the ass."

"Do you still need me?" Barachiel asked. "I will find a way to make Sebastian Moran confess."

"That might not be necessary," Greg said as he walked in on him. "The man said he is going to talk."

"He is?" Dean and John asked at the same time.

"Barry, you do what you have to do," John told him and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Try to come back safe that is if you want to. I enjoy having you as a flat mate and friend."

"I like being a librarian," Barachiel said. "I like my slippers, and my shows and jelly and I like being with you, John. I will come back." He disappeared with the sound of rustling wings.

"I…well I suppose he does have somewhere else to be," Greg said after he managed to pick up his jaw. "Where did he go?"

"Official angel business," Cas told him. "Where is Moran?"

"Not in in the interrogation room," Greg said as he lead him through the building. "He's in his holding cell. Told him he might as well tell us since everyone now knows that he has been apprehended or they are going to know with how fast media travels this day and age."

"And he said he did it?" Dean asked.

"He said he would talk," Greg told him. "He didn't confess, just that he would talk."

* * *

The human brick wall that Dean helped to bring down was leaning back in his cell with his hands behind his head and smug grin on his face.

"He's saying Moriarty was not real," Sally said in a frustrated tone. Her hands were on her hips.

"He's not," Moran said and his grin grew even larger when he saw Dean. "How's the hand, Yank?"

"Better than you think," Dean said. "How are the goods?"

"You did a bit of a number on them at the time," Moran said. "But they have recovered. Which one of you lot is in charge?"

"I am," Sally said.

"She is," the others said and pointed at her.

"We know that Sherlock Holmes was set up," Sally said. "Moriarty is the master mind."

"No he aint because he aint real," Moran said. "He's made up."

"The evidence will state otherwise," Greg told him.

"I didn't say it was Holmes. I only put the blame on him because he was getting too close to the truth."

"And what is the truth?" Dean asked.

"I made up Moriarty."

"You made him up?" John asked in disbelief. "You hired an actor to play him and ordered him to put the blame on Sherlock Holmes, force him to kill himself and you are in charge of the whole operation?"

"Of course I am," Moran said. "I might as well tell you now that you got me."

"No," John said. "He was real." He tried to shrug of Dean trying to pull him aside. "He strapped a bomb to my chest."

"Under my orders."

"John, stop," Sally said as she and the others gathered around. "We have a confession."

"He's lying though," Cas said. "He's covering up for his boss."

"He's covering up for a dead man," Dean said. "Except he might think Moriarty is still alive."

"He's afraid of the demon he has become." Sally said.

Shouts and screams came from outside of the room, cutting off Dean before he could tell them about Abaddon. Everyone stared at the door and wondered what was going on out there.

"No," Cas gasped.

Dean turned around just in time to see a dark cloud fly out of the air vent and swirl around the room before it flew straight into Moran's cell and into his mouth.

"Well," Moran said and blinked his eyes before they turned black. "We can continue the game."


	25. 24 Roadhouse

**Live To Rise**

_Chapter 24: Roadhouse_

* * *

_London_

"What game?" Dean asked as he stared into the ink black eyes of Sebastian Moran. "I don't know who you are in there and there is a good chance you know who Cas and I are."

"Noooo," the demon said slowly and shook his head. "I have no idea who you are. All I see is a couple of plain Americans. You two are nothing special. There is nothing to you. You are just dull and ordinary." He looked up at the officers and John. "Are they new friends of yours, Johnny Boy?"

"How do you know my name?" John asked. "And not theirs?"

"Because we know each other and I know all about Greg Lestrade and Sally Donovan," Moran said and smiled at the Detective Inspector. "You should thank me, honey since I am responsible for your promotion."

"Her hard work and integrity is what got her promoted," Greg said.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Dean asked and searched the other's faces for answers. "He knows you."

"They need another clue," the demon said and his eyes turned to normal before he rolled them. "That should be no surprise. I know about the angels, the real angels and how they fell. I heard a rumor that one of them became flat mates with you, John. You enjoy shacking up with men who fall."

"Moriarty," John hissed out the name before he grabbed the bars. "You bastard came crawling back."

"Wearing his right hand man's suit while Abaddon rides around in his," Dean said. "It makes sense since he is now the lackey."

"No," Moriarty said as he pointed to Dean. "You can't say her name. You don't deserve to say her name. The queen mum deserves better than your tongue."

John glared at the demon. "I will steal an angel sword if I have to just to kill you myself."

"I think he still needed time in the oven," Dean said. He never personally dealt with the guy when he was still alive and human but he knew the guy was insane and sadistic. There also had to be a reason why he came back and took over the body of his number one goon at that moment. "You were more of a charcoal gray than black."

"Had to leave when I could," Moriarty said. "Gates were being shut and I would be trapped on the inside. I couldn't let that happen could I?"

"The gates of hell have been closed?" Cas asked in a worried tone.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said. "Sam, no you didn't. You didn't. Why wasn't I informed?" He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's. "Pick up, pick up, pick up." His hands were trembling as he held the phone.

"Maybe it was someone else," Castiel said. His voice was shaking.

"What's going on?" Sally asked. "Who is Sam?"

"His brother," Greg answered. "Did Sam close the gates of hell?"

"No…he… can't," Dean said and wanted to throw his phone on the ground when he heard Sam's message. He tried Sam's other phone and he got the message on the other line. "Please Sammy tell me you didn't complete the trial." He couldn't stand and fell to his knees as his whole body quaked with fear and grief.

"Robert isn't picking up either," Castiel said. "I'll try the bunker."

"Dean what is it?" John asked as he kneeled beside him. "What will these trials do to Sam?"

"He completes the third trial the gates of hell will close," Dean explained. He closed his eyes. "And he will die. John, Sammy is dead."

"Oh ," Sally gasped.

"Oh no," Greg said and shook his head.

"Dean I'm sorry," John said and held onto Dean's hands. "I'm so sorry."

"A sacrifice," Castiel said. "A great service to Heaven and Earth. Dean, Sam is not dead, not really."

"What?" Dean looked over at him.

"His body was destroyed but he is alive as an Ishim."

"What the hell is an Ishim?" Dean and John asked at the same time while both Greg and Sally just merely asked what an Ishim was.

"A type of angel that was once human."

"Sam's an angel?" Dean asked.

"He became an angel?" John added.

"This has been quite touching," Moriarty said. "But I do have to leave. I have a date with the queen after all."

"You are not going anywhere," Greg told him. He was answered with a smirk from the demon.

The echo of several foot prints was heard outside and the door opened as two dozen officers poured led by Anderson inside. They grabbed Greg and Sally and pinned them against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Sally asked.

"Did you not get the announcement?" Anderson asked. His eyes were completely black. "Moriarty has an early release."

"Damn it," Dean grunted as he was also pinned against the wall along with Cas. "How many of these demon assholes came back with you."

"None of us have to answer to you," Anderson said. "New regime change, Winchester and Crowley was a pushover compared to her."

"Great of all the people to possess you choose this guy," Dean said.

"You should be flattered," Moriarty said as a few of the demons opened the door for him. "He knows who you are."

"Should we kill them?" Anderson asked. The smile on his face was not the pompous little smirk or annoyed scowl that Dean had associated him with. The corners were turned up and he had his teeth bared like a cat about to enjoy a whole salmon, it was disturbing.

"Where is the fun in that?" Moriarty asked as he walked out with several of his demon officers. "I always enjoy a good challenge and providing them. Let's see if they can rise to it and you know rising is the opposite of falling." He raised a finger and made it fall while mimicking the sound of a bomb falling.

"You son of a bitch," John shouted as he tried to lunge at him. "You bloody bastard. I will burn you, mark my words I will find a way to burn you."

"I look forward to it," Moriarty said with a wink before he stepped through the door, followed by several officers. The ones who held Dean and the others were the last to walk away.

"So are you like second in command?" John asked as he grabbed Anderson by the hand.

"What's it to you?" The demon in Anderson growled. "Now let me go."

"Not you," Dean said once the last officer had gone through the door. He jumped on a retreating Anderson. He reached into his pocket and shoved a handful of salt down Anderson's mouth.

"Secure the door," Cas said and used every weight in his body to slam the door shut.

"Secure him," Sally said as she pinned down Anderson by the legs.

"_Excorcizamus te, ominus immundus spiritus_," Dean began.

"No," Anderson screeched.

"_Omnis Satanica potestas, ominis incursio inferunalis adversarii omnis congreatio, et secta, diabolica."_ He ignored Anderson's shaking and writhing. _"Ergo draco maledicte, Ecclaisssam tuam scuri tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."_

Anderson screeched again before his head back and black smoke poured out of his mouth and curled up. It encircled the room once before it shot toward the vent.

"What did you do?" Sally asked.

"He exorcised the demon," Lestrade said as he continued to assist John and Castiel in holding the door back. "Although if the gates to Hell have been closed does that mean the demon will just take over someone else?"

"Gates are closed on one side," Castiel explained. "They can be sent in, but they can't get out."

"Syl," Sally spoke softly. "Syl, can you hear me?"

"Ssssally?" Anderson asked as he opened his eyes. "What happened to me? I can hear him and see what he made me do. What, what was that?"

"That was a demon," Dean said as he stood up. "This is going to be hard to understand but-"

"Demons are real and you were possessed by one," Sally explained. "Ghosts are real and I was possessed by one. Angels are also real and Castiel here used to be one."

"What?" Anderson asked and stared at her if she was crazy. "What are you talking about?"

"What she said is true," Dean told him. "There is more to it than spirits, angels and demons but we'll just focus on that right now. We don't have any idea how many of your men and women are possessed and I have no idea how many are trying to beat down the door-"

"I would say about two or three," John said.

"We'll let them in," Dean said as he handed some salt to both Anderson and Sally. "Throw this at them, try to shove it down their throats and I'll start the exorcism again."

"Are you serious?" Greg asked.

"He is," Castiel said as he stepped away from the door.

Two possessed officers raced back into the room with their pistols drawn. Sally and Anderson threw handfuls of salt at their faces, causing them to cry in pain and one of the cops to drop one of the weapons.

"We have to hold them down," Dean said as he tackled the one who still had the gun to the ground. He wrenched the pistol from his hand. "Time to go home." He took a deep breath. "_Excorcizamus te, ominus immundus spiritus Omnis Satanica potestas, ominis incursio inferunalis adversarii omnis congreatio, et secta, diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte, Ecclaisssam tuam scuri tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos._"

The two demons flew up through the vent and leaving behind exhausted and confused officers of Scotland Yard.

"This is going to be a long day," Dean said and waited for the next group.

* * *

_Heaven_

Sherlock was surprised that he and Sam had landed inside a bar and possibly bar and grill in what appeared to have been in the middle of a forest. It looked like an actual roadhouse. He wondered why they were in a bar instead of glowing white rooms and exotic gardens until he remembered what Sam and Dean had said about the time they were in heaven and remembered it.

They were not alone. There were several people in the bar, some were drinking beer and some were just talking. They appeared tense, eager to do something and they all had paused in what they were doing to look up at them.

"Buenos Dias bitches," an unkempt young man in a sleeveless plaid vest and hair cut into a mullet greeted them. "Told you, Sam. I'd see you again here sooner or later." He paused as he examined Sherlock. "Don't know who you are and I might apologize for that remark. I think we were all expecting Dean to be with Sam, no offense." He held out his hand. "I'm Ash by the way."

"I thought angels had appeared," a woman with shoulder length brown wavy hair said. "I was expecting the worst and instead I see the cutest ass and the handsome man that is attached to it."

"Nice to see you again, Pamela," Sam greeted. "You did hear angels arrive."

"Where did they go?" Another woman with brown hair asked. She was in her thirties and was a hunter in her life time. Her name was Annie had she had once slept with both Winchester brothers, and Bobby at different times. She had also once slept with John Winchester once as well. The facts about her just poured into Sherlock's head when he stared into her eyes.

"They didn't, Annie," Sam said. "This is going to be hard for everyone to understand."

"Sam and I have become Ishim," Sherlock explained. "He completed the three trials needed to close the gates of hell and I was given the grace of an angel."

"Ishim," Ash repeated before his eyes widened. "You dudes became angels now?"

"Why did you do that?" An older man asked. He had a beard and wore a dirty trucker hat. He had to be Bobby Singer. "You and your brother always got to make things right and be the big damn heroes and that is always costing you in some form or another."

"They said they were going to kill, Sherlock," Sam said and pointed at Sherlock.

"So why did Curlylocks there get turned?" Bobby asked.

"I thought I was making a deal," Sherlock said and sighed. "By giving me one of their graces it would complete the third task in order for the angels to regain their wings. I insisted on it but only if Sam was spared."

"In other words those winged bastards lied to you," Pamela said as she walked around Sherlock. "This one has a cute ass also. I can bounce ten pence on those cheeks."

"Sam has mentioned you before," Sherlock said and stepped away from her. "I am expert at reading people, but angels are quite difficult." He studied the crowd and fixated on a young and pretty blond woman. "You wish to become a hunter because of your father."

"Yes she did," a scruffy man with broad shoulders said and stepped in front of her. "I'm Bill Harvelle, her father."

"Yes but there is more," Sherlock said. "He was taken from you when you were younger and you defied your mother who owned a bar similar to this by going on hunts. Your favorite color is light green. You pinched cigarettes and snuck off to smoke them when you were eleven and stopped because you didn't enjoy it. Your first kiss was with a boy named Jacob Crowder when you were thirteen…this is too bloody easy." He knew what people were like by the way they wore their watch or a crumb on their collar, but now he just looked at them and everything was on display as if they had the words of their life stories printed on their very being.

"You saying my daughter is easy?" Bill asked.

"He reads people by how they dress, a coupon in their pockets," Sam explained. "He knows what peoples careers are by the calluses on their thumbs. He can see and know anything now by just looking at souls."

"When we are done here I am giving this grace back," Sherlock said as he rustled his wings. "I do not like it when things are too easy. I need a challenge."

"I can try to be challenging," The blond, Jo had offered.

"Jo stop flirting," Ellen Harvelle said. "Every time you hear a British accent you bat your eyelashes at them."

"Mother, I am not flirting," Jo protested before she ran her had through her hair. "Besides I'm dead. I can enjoy this for a little bit."

"What is it with the women in your country?" Sherlock asked Sam.

"Maybe it is the accent," Sam said and shrugged.

"I used the fake southern accent on hunts and they still flirted with me."

"It's because of your ass," Pamela told him. "And those cheekbones, and those pretty eyes of yours."

"Will ya quit crowding the guy?" Bobby asked. "This is the one Ellen told me about. Their new adopted brother who they fake named after us."

"That is correct Mr. Singer," Sherlock said.

"Obviously you are part of the family. You are a self-sacrificing idjit like the rest of them."

"That's a compliment," Sam said. "Just don't say anything." He turned back to the others. "Reason why we focused on this area is because we just wanted to make sure you are all right after what Metatron did, and I am so sorry that we suggested it. So Pam if you want to smack me again go ahead."

"It was our fault as much as yours, sweetie," Ellen told him. "We called out to your prophet."

"Anyways guys the main little block that Metatron put on us is gone," Ash said. "I went poking around and turns out the angels have indeed returned and removed the blocks and they are encouraging us to meet up." He turned on his makeshift laptop. "Why didn't you two show up when they did?"

"Because they used us," Sherlock answered. "And we had to take a couple of people to our home for safety."

"Makes sense," Annie said.

"That's good news," Sam said. His halo seemed to grow brighter when he was happy. "We can gather up the troops."

"So what's our next course of action?" Bobby asked. "Just wait for more souls to join up. We can make this place bigger right?"

"Sure thing," Ash told him. "We can also add your old pad and Rufus's cabin and maybe this bunker of theirs."

"I suppose I could add in my flat," Sherlock said. It would be interesting for him to step out of one room in the bar to step inside his living room. He wondered if the furniture was in the same place and if Mrs. Hudson had even painted over and removed Sherlock's method of decorating.

"Oh and Sherlock, did I get your name right?" Ash asked.

"You did," Sherlock told him.

"Sent out a signal for you," Ash said. "They should just be arriving, just now." He pointed at the doors.

Sherlock turned to the front doors as they opened. Several more people stepped in. They were the suicide cases from what John had called A Study in Pink. The other people that streamed in were the other murder victims in the cases Sherlock had solved. They all appeared to view him with respect and gratitude in their eyes. The last person to walk in was a young boy, Carl Powers.

Sherlock stared at them for a few seconds before he felt tears burn his eyes.


End file.
